DZ2's Den of Delights
by DZ2
Summary: A collective set of ideas and plot-lines that I put on paper for your enjoyment; an array of pairings, crossovers, challenge responses and other such ideas inside. Rating is for dark themes; all reviews appreciated.
1. Harry Potter's Supreme Darkness

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: now, this is NOT an official story in itself, but one of those things where the author posts the first parts/chapters of stories and ideas that suddenly decide to take root within his or her mind. All are fresh ideas, but ONLY previews; I felt a need to get them down on paper while they were there. I don't know if I'll post the full things, but for now, enjoy these tasters…**

**And so, let's start with the first: a response to my newest Challenge: Price of Power…here is a preview of my ideal response: **_**Harry Potter's Supreme Darkness – **_**for Challenge information, see my forum!**

_**D3**_

Harry knew that if he was found arriving at home later than Dudley, there'd be hell to pay…

Running down into the tunnel that ran under the roads between Privet Drive and Magnolia Crescent, Harry was then aware of the lights in the tunnel flickering with electrical weakness. At first, he considered this to be little more than an annoyance: these lights were always on the blink and besides, as a magic-user, it didn't surprise Harry that lights flickered when he was around: Hermione had always said that electronics always broke down in the presence of magical areas.

However, as he continued running after Dudley, Harry was then aware of a feeling of intense cold that ran through the tunnel, tickled at the back of his neck and gave Harry a familiar dreading feeling of discomfort that was combined with shock as he looked around, his hand slowly moving to his wand.

This cold…

This dread…

This effect…

He knew them all, but this was impossible: they couldn't be here…not in Little Whinging.

"Who's that?"

Dudley's voice distracted Harry from his dread and, as he looked past his large cousin, the eyes of the young Gryffindor narrowed as he noticed a woman that was standing at the other end of the tunnel, her dark hair easily noticeable in the flickering lights of the tunnel. The woman was dressed in a black gown with slightly-ruffled areas that covered her shoulders and divided each layer of her gown. As far as Harry could tell, she was unarmed, but he wasn't so quick to discourage that she had some sort of weapon on her person.

"Dudley," Harry whispered, his hand now wrapping around the handle of his wand as he advised the large teen, "Stay back…"

"Wise advice, Harry Potter," the woman's voice carried down the tunnel, her tone edged by a sense of cold amusement that almost sounded musical as she spoke.

Dudley, however, didn't listen as he approached the woman's spot: with a disbelieving glance, Harry couldn't believe that his cousin was actually about to hit a woman just because…well, just because she was different.

Besides, he had more important matters to think about: the cold was intensifying and Harry's chest felt like his heart had suddenly become numb: they were getting closer, but something was wrong. He'd hear them before he saw them and yet, the only thing that Harry could hear was the woman's steps as they moved down the tunnel.

The lights' patterns of flickering and electrical discharges grew stronger, fiercer and more frequent as the woman walked down the tunnel; when she reached Dudley, Harry felt his heart stop dead when the woman gestured to his large cousin and, incredibly, Dudley was sent sprawling to the floor. A look of pity crossed the woman's face as she moved down the tunnel towards Harry and, as he looked at her, Harry suddenly found his wand in his hand, pointing at the woman as he demanded, "S-S-Stay where you are: who are you and how did…how did you do that?"

"This is not the place for such a conversation," the woman advised him, her eyes glancing to his, which Harry then noticed were a deep, eerie shade of mercury that seemed to shift and contort like water was locked in the colour's glare. Yet the woman kept her distance as she added, "I am not your enemy, Harry Potter: truth is that I am here to speak to you, but we cannot talk here for long. Please, come with me and I give you my word of honour that you shall not be harmed."

"How do I know you're not with Voldemort?" asked Harry, noticing that the woman didn't flinch with the name.

"If I wished to hurt you, I would have done so," the woman explained, her hand extended as she added, "And were I a slave of Tom Riddle's, then I would have summoned him here once you were alone and defenceless…besides," she rolled up her sleeves and revealed bare arms to Harry as she told him, "I do not bear the Dark Mark, so I do not bow to that half-blood pretender, Riddle. Please," she added, indicating the world around them, "We are running out of time: there is someone approaching that is not your ally…not really; come with me, Harry Potter, and you will be safe."

"How do I know I can trust you to your word?" asked Harry, his eyes almost narrowed as he explained, "I don't even know your name…or anything about you."

"Then let me ease your pains there," the woman suggested, pressing a hand to her breast as she explained, "My name is Mira Zanbaka and I am a Sorceress of great power, Harry Potter. To that end, I suggest that, if you cannot trust me, then I ask you to demand a Sorcerer's Vow of me."

"A what?"

"It is stronger than a witch's oath and more binding than an Unbreakable," Mira explained, her voice gentle as she told him, "It will be precise and to the point and requires no input from you: if I break the terms of my vow, then I become yours to do with as you wish…plus, unless you specify it upon my breaking the vow, I lose my magic and my spirit to the ether."

Harry stared at Mira in shock as he tried to get his head around this;

What could she want to tell him that would require such a price?

**Well, like I said, there it is: a preview of an idea that I've got roaming around in my head; I don't know if I'll post the story, but I hope this taster whets your appetite for my stories and my ideas. There's a clue to the theme of the story in this preview: you just have to look closer.**

**Another preview coming soon…**


	2. Wings of Jupiter

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: also, a thank you must go out to those who responded to my first preview and so, for that, I give you the next instalment in my Den of Delights.**

**This one is a little different to my style of writing as it features a different Harry altogether: I wouldn't call this a response to the challenge, but it is inspired by whitetigerwolf's Dragon Potter Challenge; so, here it is: **

_**Wings of Jupiter**_

At just age 5, Harry Potter had lived a life that even the most inexperienced of parents wouldn't wish on their children.

After the deaths of his parents when he was a baby, Harry had been left with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon as well as his cousin, Dudley, but, for some reason that he couldn't really understand, Harry had been treated like he was something abnormal ever since the Dursleys had found him on their doorstep.

For four years – or the better part of – Harry was forced to clean, work, cook and do any and all chores that were meant to be done by Dudley: if he didn't, he wound up being beaten, starved or, worst of all, locked in his cupboard. Harry _hated_ his cupboard: it was dark, mould-ridden and scary; when the wind blew in the wintertime, it ran through the cracks in the door and chilled Harry to the bone. When he was four, he'd caught a bad chest cold and a fever and yet the Dursleys had done nothing.

Instead, they'd left him there, laughing and joking while Uncle Vernon made a remark about hoping that Harry would die.

Even worse than the cold winds, if such a thing were possible, were the thunderstorms and the rainfall that lashed against the front door window panes. When the thunder rumbled, the sound would echo all around Harry, forcing him under the threadbare quilt that he'd been _graciously_ given by Aunt Petunia. As for the lightning flashes, when they happened, they caused shadows to dance along the wall and the doorframe, bringing to Harry's mind the image of monsters, demons and things that wanted to take little boys away and eat them for dinner.

He _was_ five years old, after all: his imagination was sometimes getting away from him.

Then, even worse than the starvations, the lock-ins and the beatings were the times when the Dursleys saw Harry as nothing more than a stupid animal rather than a human being. When he cried, they'd yell at him to shut up; when he got hurt, they'd either beat him for making people feel sorry for him or – if they'd been the cause of the hurt – they'd laugh and claim later that _boys would be boys_.

And, on the dull Friday night in July where this story starts – just days before Harry would turn 6 years old – the pain that Harry felt with his lock-ins was through both fear _and_ hurt. Fear because of the thunder that echoed outside and the lightning that flashed around the walls of the house and the cupboard, bringing back the things that hid in the darkness. Harry was curled up on his threadbare quilt, his head tucked under a heavy old coat that Vernon had thrown at him to shut him up while, outside his door, the Dursleys laughed and joked at something on the television.

The pain, however, came from Harry's heart as he knew that another year would come and go and he would still be ignored on his birthday: the Dursleys would even make some sort of excuse to spoil Dudley and make him open new presents, eat loads of chocolate and generally make a spectacle of himself while Harry watched.

That hurt Harry more than any pain and, as another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, earning Harry a deafening roar for him to be quiet as his scream left his lips, the young boy closed his eyes. He tried shutting out the fear, the lightning, the flashes and the things that hid in the dark and, instead, he whispered a sort of mantra that had echoed through his mind ever since his first storm.

'Somebody will love me; someone will come; somebody will want me; somewhere I'll have fun…somebody will love me; someone will come; somebody will want me; somewhere I'll have fun…'

Harry couldn't quite explain what happened next: as his mantra whispered itself over and over within his mind, a strange and deep rumbling began to stir in the points around Harry's heart. Then, with another bright flash of light, a scream, far louder and far more scared than any that had come before them tore from Harry's lips and, when the flash died down, Harry felt…different.

He couldn't explain it, but he felt…safe…even secure; with trembling shivers that ran all over his body, Harry opened his eyes, but when he did so, his fears and confusions only increased when he saw the thing that loomed in front of him.

It was at least twice as large as Uncle Vernon with strange bright skin all over its body; its head was like a diamond-sort-of-shape with three large spikes rising from the top of its head. The thing, the _monster_ had a neck that connected to a large and bulky body, a pair of strange dark shapes folded across the body and above Harry's head. Peering down, Harry felt his heart stop as he saw two large feet with nails…or claws that looked like they could slice him into mini pieces and, when he turned his head, he saw a long swishing tail with a tip that was slashed slightly, taking the shape of…well, of a familiar shape that Harry had seen on his forehead.

A bolt of lightning.

Looking back to the large creature that loomed over him, Harry felt his lips part before he wanted to ask, "Where am I?"

However, all that came out of his mouth was a high-pitched, lonely growl that seemed to amuse the creature as it bent its large head and, opening its jaws – which were large enough to swallow Dudley and have room for dessert – it extended its tongue and licked at Harry. When it did so, Harry's confusion returned when he felt a strong warmth coming from the creature and, as it licked him again, a part of him…_liked it_.

'_My child…you are beautiful…_'

The soft, feminine voice whispered to Harry from all around, but, as he tried to find it, he only found the creature above him growling deeply, the sound coming from deep inside its tummy where, as it lowered its head again, the creature coughed – or it sounded like a cough – and, from its mouth, a small spark of lightning danced out of its lips and ignited a fire that burned warmly and welcoming close to Harry.

Harry didn't know how or why he did what he did, but, as he looked back to the creature, he felt his eyes pierce the eyes of the larger creature and, with another soft growl, he spoke to her…without moving his lips.

'_Momma…_'

'_Yes, little one…I am your Momma,_' the female voice replied, the creature above him lowering her large head before she nuzzled him affectionately, '_And I shall keep you safe…my little drakelet._'

As Harry let out another keening growl, the female voice then asked, '_Now…what to call you? Zeus? Jupiter? Aeolus? What do you think, my child? What is your name?_'

'_Momma…_' Harry replied in his strange way, his eyes on the creature as he wondered about her comment in calling him her drakelet.

'_I am your Momma,_' the female told him, '_But a name is needed…let's see…how about…Raiko?_'

A pleasing growl left Harry's lips as he heard the name: something about it just seemed right…and, though he couldn't quite understand why, he felt like he belonged more to that name than the one of Harry.

'_Then it is done,_' the female told him, before she growled deeply and, as he turned his head, Harry saw an unusual sight making its way towards him. Three men, one of which looked to be only a few years older than he was, were approaching the large female creature, the young boy looking to Harry/Raiko with shock and awe.

"He's beautiful," the boy remarked, his words surprising Harry as it seemed to him that the female, his Momma, couldn't quite understand the others. She also moved one of those large feet of hers and shielded her little one with the sharp claws, which seemed to prompt the boy to explain, "It's okay Meira; we won't hurt him…and his kin are safe…come on girl, you know you can trust me."

'_Humans are such loud creatures,_' the female, Meira, growled to Harry/Raiko, her eyes watching the youngest of the three as he held out what looked like a dead ferret's body. '_But this one is well-trained…_' she added, before striking forwards with her head and taking the meat from the boy. As she chomped into the flesh, Meira dropped part of the body at the feet of Harry/Raiko and, as he sniffed cautiously at the meat, the female growled at him again, '_Eat Raiko, grow big and strong…like your brother and sister._'

A part of the young child questioned what she meant by that: he was sure he didn't _have_ a brother or a sister, and yet, at the same time, another part of him snapped his head forwards and nibbled at the meat in front of him with soft, sharp bites. As he ate, Harry/Raiko saw the young boy pull a stick from his jacket before he flicked it and brought a trough of water in front of the youngling.

Leaning his head forwards, Harry/Raiko went to drink from the trough, but stopped just short of the water's surface when he caught sight of his reflection in the water.

Gone was the wild black hair and bruised features;

Gone were the overhanging clothes and silly-looking glasses;

All that looked back at Harry/Raiko that he recognised were his emerald-green eyes, though they now looked more like the eyes of a cat or a snake rather than what they used to look like. Other than that, Harry/Raiko saw that he was also covered in bright skin that looked to be the colour of the sun, a single, lone piece of his bright skin being the only exception as that was a lustrous shade of white…shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Two smallish-sized…things were over Harry/Raiko's back and, as he turned, he caught sight of a tail that was about the same length as an adult's arm, the tip of the tail shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Glancing back at his reflection, Harry/Raiko growled deeply before he lowered his head and drank from the watery trough, earning a soft clap from the boy in front of him.

"Good dragon," the boy whispered, "You're a good boy…and it's up to me to take care of you…which I will: it's not every day we get a third Kyoto Thunderfang born to this nest."

"Maybe it's just luck," one of the boy's older companions suggested, "Him being born to old Meira on the same day you start your apprenticeship with us: talk about a shocking coincidence, eh, Charlie?"

"Yeah…" the boy, Charlie, replied, moving towards the young creature before, to his surprise, the small form crawled back to his Momma's side, Meira wrapping her large dark forms around him protectively.

'_It's okay, Raiko,_' she whispered to him, '_Momma won't let them see you alone: Momma will love you and protect you…she promises._'

'_Momma,_' Raiko, not Harry, replied, lowering his head before he fell asleep, listening to the sounds of the world around him as he drifted back off into dreams.

**Well, there it is: I hope you liked it; as you can see, the base idea is a Creature-Harry story with a big twist to my normal writing style; as with others to come, it's an idea that I just wanted to get down on paper;**

**The next story preview is coming soon…**


	3. Emerald Destiny

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: also, a thank you must go out to those who responded to my first preview and so, for that, I give you the next instalment in my Den of Delights.**

**Now, for something REALLY different, I'm completely changing HP and adding another famous fandom: Pokémon! This is a response – or example response – to my 2****nd**** option in my Poké Harry Challenges: The 'Poké-Hogwarts' Challenge: so, here it is:**

_**Emerald Destiny**_

Harry Potter had always been different, though he couldn't quite understand why.

Raised in Little Whinging Town alongside his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin, the young ten-year old boy was looking forwards to this day, his eleventh birthday for one sole reason. On his eleventh birthday, Harry would receive a visitor that would help him leave Little Whinging Town and begin his journey not as a freak or a monster, but as a Pokémon Tamer.

Little Whinging Town was just one of the many different towns within the Equinox Region that housed the unusual, but gifted members of the community that could become one with their Pokémon, creatures of magical gifts and special abilities that worked alongside human beings for battles, work and lifestyles. There were Pokémon Trainers, Pokémon Co-Ordinators, Pokémon Breeders, Pokémon Doctors, Pokémon Connoisseurs and even Pokémon Masters, but, within the Equinox Region and the other regions of the Pokémon Universe – from the distant regions of Kanto through to Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh and right up to Equinox's twin region of Unova – there were other sorts of trainers and allies of Pokémon.

Allies born with the unique abilities to embrace their inner natures of the bond with Pokémon and discover unique abilities: elemental and psionic abilities; these were the Pokémon Tamers and the strongest of these had the chance to become Pokémon Avatars, the greatest of elemental, psionic and aura-based battlers and champions of Pokémon.

Harry, as he had discovered at age five, was one such Tamer: at first, he thought that his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be scared, even abusive when he discovered his power, but, when it had happened, Aunt Petunia had comforted him and Uncle Vernon had begun to make his body stronger so that his powers were stronger. Dudley, unlike Harry, had a dream of being a Pokémon Breeder and gathering the strongest of Pokémon for his company, but he was still happy for his cousin to be one of the greatest ever.

After all, as Aunt Petunia had told him, his Father, James Potter, was a legendary Pokémon Avatar of Electric Types before he'd died in a raid by the villainous Team Kedavra and their leader, Avatar Voldemort. In that same battle, Harry's Father's partner, Jolteon, had risked its life to unleash a powerful Zap Cannon attack that had destroyed Harry's home in the now-ruined area of Godric's Forest, and, at the same time, it had marked Harry with a lightning-bolt mark over his left eyebrow.

As for Avatar Voldemort, he had been destroyed in the collision of power and Harry's parents had been hailed as heroes: his Mother, Lily Potter, was also a hero for her unique approach to leaving the Avatar-ship that she'd gained with Water Types and became a Pokémon Doctor. When she'd died in battling Team Kedavra, her Pokémon ally, Prinplup, had been sent to Aunt Petunia and, when Harry had been discovered to be a Pokémon Tamer, Aunt Petunia had introduced Harry to Prinplup and told him that she was his.

Prinplup must have sensed the bond between her former mistress because, when she was introduced to Harry, she took to helping him get stronger and learning to use the basics of his power.

What surprised both Petunia and Prinplup was that Harry's power was neither Electric nor Water like his parents: his power was the stronger and greatest of the groups: Aura.

In the history of the Tamers, there had only been a small handful of Avatars that had ascended to the full power of Aura and, these days, the power was uniquely gifted and legend stated that Arceus himself blessed any with the gift and watched over them.

Whether or not that was true, Harry didn't know, but he was still honoured to be found worthy of the gift _and_ the apparent care of the legendary Pokémon God.

On the bright Wednesday morning where this story starts, Harry was out in the training field behind the Dursleys' home, Prinplup standing with him while, opposite them, Dudley stood with a Poké-Ball in his hand, one of his three Pokémon stored within. Unlike Harry, Dudley had started his journey at age ten when Uncle Vernon had taken him to see Professor Hope – the local Pokémon expert who, herself, was a Pokémon Connoisseur and, like Harry's Mother, an ex-Avatar of Psychic Types – and Dudley had received his starter Pokémon, who was the one in the ball that he now held.

"You sure you want to do this, Big D?" asked Harry, looking to Prinplup, who was prepared for battle, "Prinplup is in a whole other generation to yours."

"I'm sure, Harry," Dudley replied, enlarging the Poké-Ball before he commanded, "Come out and shine!"

In a flash of blue light, a small lizard-type Pokémon appeared: it had lime-green skin with a red belly and bright yellow eyes; in one hand, the Pokémon held a reed that he placed in his mouth as he stood before Harry's 2nd-generation Pokémon, his voice gruff as he sneered, "Treecko!"

"Just because he's a Grass Type doesn't mean he'll beat Prinplup so easily," Harry reminded Dudley as this was only the third time in the past year that he'd battled Treecko, "And don't forget that she's meant to have evolved, but Mum kept her as Prinplup with the Everstone, so she's stronger than this."

"I remember," Dudley laughed, "But that doesn't mean I'll go down so easily: Treecko: use Bullet Seed!"

"Treee…_cko_!" roared Treecko, firing off several green orbs from its mouth, the blasts making their way towards Prinplup.

"Dodge it," Harry commanded, watching as Prinplup moved with incredible speed away from the blasts, "Now counter with Ice Beam!"

Opening her mouth, Prinplup released a blast of intense cold that enveloped Treecko, the attack freezing the lizard-like Pokémon in its place, which gave Harry the perfect opportunity as he commanded, "Now use Shadow Claw!"

"Say what?" asked Dudley, watching as Prinplup's left flipper began to glow with dark energy that struck out at the frozen Treecko, knocking him free of the ice, but also sending him down to the ground. "Treecko: get up…use Absorb!"

With a smile, Harry saw Treecko's eyes flash red before they released a beam that struck Prinplup, the energy then returning to Treecko and seemingly making him strong again. Giving his cousin a round of applause, Harry laughed joyfully as he exclaimed, "Now it's a battle: Prinplup, use Metal Claw!"

"Counter with Bullet Seed!" commanded Dudley as Prinplup and Treecko ran at one another, Treecko firing off its glowing seeds while Prinplup seemed to bat them away like a master of tennis. Finally, closed in, Prinplup slashed at Treecko with its metallically-covered flippers, the smaller Pokémon being sent back with a loud crash, spirals appearing in his eyes.

"Looks like Treecko is unable to battle," Harry mused, lifting his Poké Ball and recalling Prinplup, "I did try and warn you, Dudley: Prinplup's an evolved starter while Treecko is just First-Gen: someone else would have been better."

"I guess so," Dudley agreed, also recalling Treecko as he added, "Guess I owe you dinner then, huh?"

"Boys!" Aunt Petunia's voice called, both of them looking to the window where her head was sticking out of the window, "Dinner's ready…and Harry?"

"Yes, Auntie?" asked Harry, seeing a look of delight in his Aunt's eyes as they approached.

"You've got a visitor…"

If Dudley hadn't known that his cousin could do amazing things when he tapped into his Aura power, he would have thought that Harry's sudden fast movements to be something freaky. However, Harry vanished in a cloud of smoke that ran towards the house, which made Dudley laugh as he knew how much Harry had looked forwards to this day.

Entering the house, Dudley felt a little shocked when he found a large black-furred Pokémon with white highlights and fierce red eyes standing in the room accompanied by a young-looking man with light-brown hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a skin-tight white outfit that held a crest on its right-hand side: a shield bearing the images of a Rayquaza, an Entei, a Mewtwo and a Shaymin Sky Form surrounding Arceus' golden banded head.

While Dudley was intimidated by the Pokémon, Harry was delighted by the trainer with it as he ran into the man's arms with a laugh, "Uncle Remus: why did they send you?"

"Who else would they send to bring my cub into the world of the Tamer?" asked Remus, ruffling Harry's black hair while his companion Pokémon licked Harry's cheek lovingly, "Moony has been waiting a long time to see his little one again…but to bring you into the fold fully…well, with Sirius out being Sirius and the others at the school, there was only one Shadow Tamer they could think of."

"So…" Harry mused, looking to his Aunt, who was shaking her head with a sense of wonder as she asked herself what she was going to do with her nephew.

"So?" asked Remus, before he got his answer as Harry snapped his head back to Remus.

"Can we go to the Temple and get my partner?"

Remus laughed, before he looked to Petunia, who nodded and, taking Harry's hand, Remus told him, "Come on then, cub: let's make tracks."

"Bye Aunt Petunia!" called Harry, stopping only once to pick up his already-packed backpack, which was black with blue streaks and sparkly purple stars to show Harry's Aura side.

"Write home soon," Petunia called, watching as her nephew vanished out the door, Remus and Moony following close behind while Dudley, turning to his Mother, sighed deeply before he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm going to miss him."

_**EmeraldDestiny**_

The Temple of the Tamer was located within the main retail district of Diagon City, a sprawling metropolis of shops, hotels, casinos and other such paraphernalia, but each one had one thing in common: Pokémon. Harry, who had been to the City only twice before in his life, was still awed at the amazement and splendour that rolled past them as they rode on Remus' motorcycle – which actually belonged to Sirius – with Harry clutching Remus while his companion, Moony the Mightyena, howled playfully at passers by.

"Now Harry," Remus told his charge as they ran through the city towards the highest point, which was easily seen by the statues of the Creation Trio overshadowed by the statue of Arceus, "You remember what you were told about the rite?"

"I go in, I demonstrate my Tamer's Gift and I receive my partner," Harry replied, earning a bark from Moony while Remus chuckled. Stopping the bike at the foot of a large amount of stairs, Harry led the way up towards the temple while, behind him, Remus and Moony moved to keep an eye on him.

"That's…basically…it," gasped Remus, puffing and panting as they reached the archway that was formed by Dialga's supersized legs, "But…also remember that…that no…no Pokémon are…permitted inside…with you. So…hand me…Prinplup's Poké Ball, if you…you please."

"Sure," Harry nodded, handing the Poké Ball that he kept on a silver chain around his neck to his honorary Uncle. With a hug to Moony, who gave Harry a good-luck lick, the young Tamer-to-be laughed before he told the wolf-like Pokémon, "Soon I'll be strong enough to understand you; then we can have some fun."

Moony barked in reply and, moving to his Tamer's side, he watched as Harry turned and walked right into the entrance of the Tamer's Temple, which was ironically shaped like an open Poké Ball. Once Harry stepped over the threshold, the doors to the temple closed up, sealing him inside while Remus and Moony were left outside.

Harry was now alone within the Temple…

**So, how about that one then? Replacing magic with a unique form of Trainer and also making the Dursleys nice; I don't know how or why this idea came to me, but I hope it's enough to keep those creative juices of mine going and, in time, who knows, I may post it;**

**Anyway, if you want more information on the plot, check out my forums under Poké Harry Challenge and you'll find out more;**

**Next preview coming soon…**


	4. Black Trinity

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: also, a thank you must go out to those who responded to my previous preview and so, for that, I give you the next instalment in my Den of Delights.**

**This time, the preview is of one – amongst a few that are to come in the Den – that I'd like to post: it's an old idea (so to speak) but an interesting one…but see what you think**

_**Black Trinity**_

In magical terms, there were two numbers that meant great expectations for the futures of those involved with them: three and seven.

Seven, being a proverbial _lucky number_ was hailed as a magical number because of its ties to luck, but three was also hailed as magical for its ties to infamous positive expressions: _best things come in threes, the power of three, third times the charm _etc.

However, in one example, the number three was given to the magical world in the case of three very different boys that would grow up to be three very different wizards…all with one destiny.

This is their story…

_**Black Trinity**_

Lily Potter was worried;

She felt it deep inside her ever since the first hours of All Hallows' Eve had begun: a feeling of dread and fear that told her one simple thing:

Today was the day that she was going to die.

As the day rolled on, Lily remained close to her little boy, innocent and uniquely-blessed Harry James Potter, but, as night rolled in and James, her husband and Harry's Father, said goodnight to his little one, Lily crept into her son's room and, kneeling down, she held his cheek in her hand.

"Harry," she whispered softly, seeing only confusion in the eyes of her baby boy. "You are loved…so loved…Harry, Mama loves you; Dada loves you."

A smile crossed the face of the baby as Lily tried her hardest not to cry: she was prepared for this; she would defy fate, but she needed Harry to know this…just in case anything happened to her in the future.

"Harry…be safe, be strong…and never forget that you are loved."

"Mama," the toddler replied, though he couldn't understand why his Mama was crying: why was she so sad when he was there to make her smile?

Placing a gentle kiss against her son's fingers, Lily drew her wand and cast a spell on Harry that put him to sleep, his soft and gentle breathing seemingly echoing within Lily's mind as she tried to keep herself strong for this.

'He won't use you, Harry…' she thought, keeping her wand in hand as she prepared for what was coming, 'I won't let him; we won't let him; your _brothers_ won't let him…'

A loud explosion shattered the night, but Lily's spell on her son stopped Harry from waking and crying at the loud noises, which meant he didn't hear the cries of his Father, "Lily…we've been betrayed: it's him! Take Harry and run!"

"James!" cried Lily, opening the door before she stepped aside suddenly as a red beam of magical light shot past her.

"He's too important," James retorted, his voice edged with fury, "If you don't take him, you know he'll be in danger: just go; I've called Sirius: he's on his way! Just _run!_"

Lily felt her heart break in two as she slammed the door, turned to her son's crib and, picking him up, Lily reached under her shirt before she exclaimed, "Where Three Are One!"

A sharp pull against her navel coincided with the power of the Killing Curse – a bright flash of green light – being launched all around the room, a demonic, ethereal scream ripping through the house as it went up in flames.

_**Black Trinity**_

Sirius Black felt fear in his heart as he appeared in front of the towering inferno of hellfire that burned through Potter House in Godric's Hollow, the debris and the Muggle presence with their emergency services telling Sirius that things had gotten out of hand. Amongst the emergency services, Sirius caught sight of a man with a long beard walking away from the house and towards him, a sorrowful look in his eyes.

"Albus!" Sirius exclaimed, grabbing the man's long robes by the collar as he hissed, "I warned you: we warned you, but no, you have to be right, don't you? So…_where is he?_ Where's my pup?"

"He's…" Dumbledore seemed to look back to the house, which meant that Sirius missed the look of well-practiced rage and success that crossed Dumbledore's face as he turned back, his expression now one of sorrow, and explained, "He's dead, Sirius: they didn't make it; even Voldemort is…"

"Fuck Voldemort!" Sirius roared, "Where's Peter? I'll tear his heart out for this!"

"I heard he was heading away from the village," Dumbledore replied, his words hitting home as Sirius turned and ran away from the inferno.

Behind him, Dumbledore chuckled to himself before he whispered, "Now you will not be able to interfere, Black: a feeble-minded fool like you could never understand why this was for the Greater Good."

_**Black Trinity**_

Sirius left the northern boundaries of Godric's Hollow, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wide with rage as he searched for a sign of the traitor: with his wand in hand, the Black Lord cast a Locator spell on Pettigrew, but, at the same time, a loud crack sounded nearby and, turning to face the crack, Sirius' eyes widened.

Lily Potter, the woman that was meant to be dead, was standing in front of him, her own wand pointed at him as she warned him, "Don't you dare do what you're thinking of doing, Padfoot: Bambi and Demeter still need you."

The three nicknames, two of which James himself had told only Lily, Sirius and Remus when he'd come up with them, seemed to calm Sirius before he asked, "Where…where is he, Lil?"

"Where Three Are One," Lily answered, pressing a hand to her heart as she told him, "You know what you have to do: go and get them, Sirius…before it's too late."

"On my way," Sirius whispered, already focusing on the sources of the words that Lily had replied to his question; with his destination set, Sirius then added, "Lily…did James…"

"He gave his life so our baby could live," Lily explained, approaching Sirius before she hugged him, letting his shivers of rage and loss soothe her own fears as she told him, "But without the other two, James' sacrifice will mean nothing: please, Padfoot, go and get them…for Harry's sake."

Sirius nodded before he turned once on the spot and vanished with a soft pop, Lily following suit just moments later…

_**Black Trinity**_

Frank and Alice Longbottom were both surprised and unnerved when Sirius appeared in their lounge within the family estate, his eyes filled with determination while his hands were devoid of a wand or weapons.

Looking to the male Longbottom, Sirius cleared his throat before he told him, "The Hollow has been taken: Primus is safe, but he needs Secundus and Tertius to make him feel complete."

Frank, whose hand had gone to his wand at the sight of Sirius' sudden appearance, eased his grip before he rose from his chair as he asked, "What about Russus?"

"Safe and with Primus," Sirius answered, his voice calm as he explained, "Raven didn't make it, but Vanity and Tertius are yet to be informed: they are my next port of call."

"Then you should go, Curator," Alice advised Sirius, her voice edged by worry as she suddenly stiffened and, facing her husband, she told him, "We have to go…now!"

"Get him," Frank instructed, just as an alarm rang through the mansion, Sirius taking the hint and, with a whisper of _be careful_ to Frank and Alice, he Apparated away, leaving the two to draw their wands while Alice, making for the door, looked back to her husband, "Go: he means more to anyone else than I do…but I won't go down easily: we're warriors, Alie, remember that."

Alice nodded and, pulling the door open, she made for the stairs, just as the main doors to the mansion were blown off, a loud, crazed voice calling to the occupants of the house, "Frankie…Ally…come out and play!"

'Lestrange,' thought Alice, moving with new speed to the room where a small boy was sound asleep, the explosions only hidden from him by the wards that were around the room. Picking up the baby, Alice turned back to the door before she added in thought, 'Frank, if you fall to _her_, I'll kick your ass all over the next life!'

"Where Three Are One!"

_**Black Trinity**_

Sirius' final stop on the journey was a beautifully-designed mansion that held a stone-laced garden path and a garden filled with topiaries and roving white peacocks. But he wasn't here for the scenery: running to the house, Sirius didn't wait on ceremony: instead, he booted the door down and yelled, "Cissy: where are you?"

"Sirius?" asked a female voice, directing the Black Lord's attention to a young woman that held onto a sleeping child – Sirius partially wondering how all three had slept so soundly when others were in danger – both of whom had white hair while the woman, dressed in a silk nightgown, had deep blue eyes that looked to Sirius with worry. Glancing to the boy in her arms, she asked, "Has the Tower been taken?"

"Yes," Sirius answered.

"The Princes?"

"Safely stolen away," Sirius explained, a part of him congratulating his own self-imposed memory for being able to recall each of the answers from each of the inquiries that they had come up with all those months ago. "The Countess is with the Prince, but the Count is fighting the invaders: the Grand Duke has fallen, but the Grand Duchess waits with her son; all we need is the Baroness and the final piece of the Crown and all will be well."

"I wondered where he'd gone," the female in front of Sirius told him, "If he gets caught, it's his own fault. Draco is all that matters: for their future, they need to be together."

"I'll go back and ensure the safety of the Count, Narcissa," Sirius told her, his voice edged by determination as he explained, "You know where to go: I'll join you as soon as I can."

"Then luck be with you, White Knight," Narcissa whispered, already moving to clutch at a pendant around her neck before she added, "Once I'm gone, count to ten and then run…but don't you leave them alone."

"I'll die for these boys," Sirius told her, already preparing to make a run for it, "Go!"

"Where Three Are One!"

As Narcissa vanished, Sirius counted as far as nine, before he scoffed, "To hell with it!"

He vanished on ten…and, seconds later, the home of his cousin and the third piece of what was meant to be one of the most important unities of destiny in the known world went up in flames.

_**Black Trinity**_

Narcissa appeared within a dimly-lit lounge, the whisper of the flames that burned in the fireplace being the only sound that she could hear as she looked to the two other women in the room. One, an emerald-green-eyed woman with fiery-red hair and pale skin, acknowledged her with a courteous nod as she knew that only this woman and her companion were the only females that knew of this place.

"Baroness," the red-head whispered.

"Grand Duchess," Narcissa replied, looking to her companion as she added, "Countess."

"Baroness," the third woman answered, before all three seemed to relax as the woman asked, "Did…did _he_ come to you, Cissy?"

"No," Narcissa replied, "Lucius left when he sensed that accursed symbol burning him: if he dies, I will mourn him, but I won't cry; if he gets caught, he'll only bust himself out with that cursed excuse of being under the Imperious, but he won't have a son to come back to."

"At least that's…" the red-head began, before she was cut off by another pop and Sirius' form appearing, the body of Frank in his arms, his face marked by scars and blood. "Padfoot, what happened?"

"Lestrange," answered her companion, "Is…is he…"

"No, Alice," Sirius replied, his voice calm as he looked to the others, "She tortured him into submission: I was able to get him out of there before they brought the place down around our ears. Not that it'll matter since the Order weren't even there to ensure your safety: Merlin, I'm going to _kill_ Peter for this!"

"Cool it, Curator," Alice commanded, her voice edged by a hiss as she reminded him, "The boys are still asleep."

"Apologies, Matriarch," Sirius replied, his response telling them that he was who they said he was, "Patriarch could wake up at any time, but I don't know when."

"Thank you, nonetheless," the red-head, Lily Potter, remarked, before she stepped forwards and took the sleeping child from the arms of Narcissa and, turning to the fireplace, she set the child down on the left-hand side of a young child with a head of messy black hair, a second child with sleek dark hair and a slightly rounded face on the messy-haired boy's other side.

Rising from her task, Lily watched as three tiny hands linked with one another as though they knew that others were there; as they did, the trio of boys were enveloped in an aura of blue and white lights that seemed to cover them like a large protective blanket. When it faded, the boys continued to sleep soundly while Lily, Alice, Narcissa and Sirius stood over them, watching them warily and with an improved sense of protection.

"We have to make sure that they grow up strong…but loved," Lily whispered, looking to her companions, "We don't let them grow up believing that their lives revolve around the Legend: they're not warriors or slayers or martyrs or champions."

"They're brothers," Narcissa remarked, looking to Sirius as she asked, "You want to do it?"

"Given the sacrifices that tonight have cursed us with," Sirius answered, "I shouldn't…but it'll keep them safe and keep them together: if you want me to do it, then I will."

"Thank you Sirius," Lily replied, giving her old friend a soft kiss on the cheek as she asked, "Who provides the matriarchal side?"

"We all will," Alice answered, "They'll be brothers to the families of each of us _and_ each will be their own sole Heir while they're the collective Heirs of Sirius' family."

Narcissa nodded silently before she asked, "What about the…other heritages? I mean James is…"

"I know," Lily answered, looking to the other two as she added, "But so am I…or at least, I was discovered to be the last link to that line: they won't discriminate each other and they won't be divided by blood. They'll be one in everything."

"The Black Trinity," Sirius whispered, earning a soft snigger from his three female companions as he added, "Don't you worry: I won't let anything happen to them."

"We know," Narcissa, Lily and Alice chorused as their eyes remained on their boys…

**Well, there it is and, as I said, it'll be one that I hope to post fairly soon: I just wanted to get the idea down on paper and see if it worked.**

**Also, there's a hidden reference in here – a fairly obvious one, but also a hidden one – that hints at what sort of future the main characters would have. If you spot it, well done you;**

**Next preview coming soon…**


	5. Sword of Justice, Soul of Innocence

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous previews. Now, as a quick note to my previous preview – Black Trinity – I am going to post it as a story sometime in the next month, so thanks to everyone that insisted I should do so.**

**Now, for this preview, I'm going to look at the other option of my 'Poké-Harry Challenge' known as the 'Legendary Son' Challenge; for full details, see my forum, but here it is:**

_**Sword of Justice, Soul of Innocence**_

At some point in their young lives, every child will use those two magic words: _I wish…_

For some, it would be a mere whim of a birthday wish or seeing the first star in the sky and, for those children, it would be a selfish wish made: a wish for money, power, a gift that they haven't really earned or for a new life. These wishes are ignored by those who govern the laws of wishes and desires.

But, every so often, every once in a blue moon, a wish is made that is truly selfless: a wish for help, aid or, like a selfish wish, a new life; however, unlike those whom would selfishly wish for a new life, the selfless wish-maker would wish for his or her new life because they couldn't imagine a scene that was worse than this one.

And it was this kind of wish that would lead a seemingly-ordinary boy named Harry to a destiny and an adventure that was truly out of this world.

He just didn't know it yet…

_**Sword of Justice, Soul of Innocence**_

Harry shivered out in the cold and dark of the December snowfall as he tried to keep warm, his clothes less raggedy and more torn and heavily damaged from misuse and abuse. He couldn't understand why he'd been tossed out into the cold and left there just for overcooking the dinner slightly.

He was _nine_ years old, for God's sake, and yet, Uncle Vernon, his large, abusive and often-times-extremely-violent relative, was apparently looking for Harry to be able to learn to cook like a gourmet chef. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, the man actually went on to punish Harry – be it by the belt or his hand – if he did it _too good_, which, in the man's sickened mind, was a sign that he had cheated somehow.

Harry had always been the target for Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and even Cousin Dudley's rages and fury whenever something he did was too right or too wrong. Though they were his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin respectively, they didn't treat him like family: instead, they chose to look at him like he was some sort of abomination, a _thing_ that shouldn't exist.

A monster.

Harry couldn't do anything right in their books, but he could do _everything_ wrong: if he was praised at school – a lesson that teachers learned not to do as Harry had pleaded with them to fake his results – but if he was praised at school, then he was beaten for doing better than their precious Dinky-Diddums and if he did too poorly, he was mocked and jeered at for being an idiot and risking precious Duddykins' intelligent future.

Not even when he'd actually managed to learn to read and write and draw did his relatives praise him: they ripped up his work, ignored any and all letters from school that were sent to him and, more often than not, made a habit of mocking Harry and targeting him when he was standing in the same room.

And all Harry could ask, as he huddled against the snow that lay around him, his hands shivering as he tried to get some warmth into his body, all he could ask was, "Why?"

Shivering against the cold, Harry lifted his head to the now semi-cleared sky overhead, the sight of the full moon shining down on the snow-fallen world below bringing little comfort to him. However, as he looked to the sky, Harry found his eyes drawn to one star in particular: it seemed to be far brighter than any other star that he could see and, as he looked to the star, Harry found his fears passing by and his cold slowly passing away.

Often times, Harry had wished that he could be like that star: standing out amongst a sea of ordinary-looking people and other stars, shining brightly with the power to make things okay and to make people see him not as a monster, but as a hero.

But now, as he looked to the star, Harry found his lips moving shakily, his words heard only by his ears as he whispered, "I…I wish…I could be free…to leave…and be s-s-someone…else…"

Then, curling himself into as small a ball as he could, Harry continued shivering against the cool night, unaware of the glint from the bright star overhead…

_**Sword of Justice, Soul of Innocence**_

Had Harry known about the power of words and emotions, he could have known that, with the right sort of training and work, he could make his wish come true by himself. For Harry wasn't like other boys in the village of Little Whinging; he was more extraordinary than he could believe, for Harry, little, innocent Harry James Potter, was a wizard.

He was the son of two magical parents, both of whom had given their lives to protect him and, regrettably, lead him to a life with his abusive relatives where he was treated no better than a slave.

So, if he'd known about magic and about the true strength of his inner spirit, Harry may have been a little more careful with his wish and making it towards the brightest star in the sky. For, like Harry was no ordinary boy, the star that he wished upon was no ordinary star: while normal people would call it Polaris, the North Star, there were those that knew it by another name.

Those not of Harry's world or kind: they knew Polaris as a different name and a different title: the Eye of Jirachi.

And, at the same moment that Harry closed his eyes and seemed to succumb to the cold around him, the Eye of Jirachi connected itself to the spirit of its bearer, crossing time, space and entire dimensions before it reached a yellow-skinned creature with an almost star-shaped bodily design, its lower body covered by white while it had three green tag-like shapes on the three points that surrounded its head.

Deep black eyes that seemed to be filled with innocence, mischief and wonder opened as the Eye returned to its body and, as it opened its eyes, the small creature, known to many of its kind as Jirachi, the Wish Granter, felt a silvery tear roll down his cheek and splash onto the ground beneath it.

From the point where the tear had splashed, a strange purple aura suddenly rose from the ground and, from out of the aura, a purple-skinned feline creature appeared, the purple colouring of its body split between a light shade and a darker shade that covered its underbelly and moved around to its tail. Two hands – as well as its feet – held three fingers that lifted themselves up and brushed over Jirachi's cheek before a deep, concerned voice asked, '_Wish-Giver, why do you cry?_'

'_Mewtwo,_' a light-hearted, almost childish voice answered, the dark eyes of the Wish creature meeting the reddish eyes of the feline creature in front of him, '_It…it is so sad…a child…he's hurt…_'

'_Hush, Jirachi,_' Mewtwo replied, kneeling down before he placed one of his hands against the creature's head, his eyes now glowing an eerie shade of blue as he added, '_Show me…_'

With his incredible level of psychic power, Mewtwo was able to see through the eyes of the Wish-Giver's stars, his mind reeling as he saw the young boy and heard his wish. Not for the first time did Mewtwo feel a sense of hurt and hatred spawn into his heart along with a feeling of determination to protect someone else.

'And all this is thanks to that immortal-spirited Trainer,' Mewtwo thought to himself as he removed his hand from Jirachi's forehead and, rising again, he nodded once before he commented, '_You wish to grant his wish, don't you?_ _Bring him into a world where he is safe…'_

'_Yes,_' Jirachi answered, his explanations and pleas falling on the wrong ears as Mewtwo then vanished in another burst of violet light.

Jirachi may have believed that Mewtwo was going to ignore his plea, but, the next time that the feline creature, the cloned psychic Pokémon, appeared, it was within a hall of light and white stone, a large altar in front of Mewtwo upon which stood a white-furred creature with sharp golden-coloured eyes and a band of gold around the neck area of the creature. Seeing Mewtwo appear before it, the quadruped-creature stepped forwards before he asked in a powerful voice, '_Cloned One, what brings you to the Hall of Legends?_'

'_A request, Creator,_' Mewtwo replied, looking upon the apparent God of the Pokémon world, Arceus, with respect and a sense of duty, '_Jirachi has told me of a child whom has made him cry and he wishes…_'

'_I am aware of Jirachi's plea for the boy with the pure spirit,_' Arceus rumbled, cutting off Mewtwo as he explained, '_And I have already made plans to bring him here; however, if he is to _keep_ this pure spirit, he will need…assistance: a protector that will also be a friend. That is why I wish to bond one of the Legends to him, but, tell me, Mewtwo, which legend do you think it should be?_'

'_Giratina would be a definite no,_' Mewtwo remarked, a smile tugging at his lips as he explained, '_He would frighten the child half to death; no, for a child, I suggest we offer up a child…not Jirachi; he would be too much and, besides, he sleeps half the time._'

'_And Celebi's Time Jumping Power could make a catastrophic mistake,_' agreed Arceus, closing his eyes as he added, '_Manaphy and the Lake Guardians, perhaps? No, they would never accept a child as their charge; remember what happened last time?_'

'_I do,_' Mewtwo replied, '_I'm looking at it…but if not them…then…who?_'

'_Perhaps someone with his own sense of innocence,_' Arceus suggested, his golden eyes glowing brightly as two bright blue seals rose from the ground, revealing two other creatures as he spoke, '_Perhaps someone who values a friend and shows true strength: Shaymin…or Keldeo, maybe._'

'_If the choice is mine,_' Mewtwo reasoned, looking to the blue and pearlescent forms of the two pieces of the Creation Trio, Dialga and Palkia, '_Then I would suggest Keldeo: his visions of justice and his protective streak for his friends make him the perfect choice._'

'_Agreed,_' Arceus growled, before he turned his attention to the two newcomers, '_Dialga, Palkia: while I know it is a risk in summoning you both here, I ask your help with a dire matter._'

'_Were you not the one that summoned us, Lord Arceus,_' Dialga growled in a rather bestial voice, '_I would decline, but our past encounters remind me that it would be foolish to challenge you._'

'_I agree with him,_' Palkia drawled, his voice more like the hiss of a snake coupled with the growl of his counterpart as he explained, '_I will do what you ask, Lord Arceus: how may we be of service?_'

'_One moment,_' Arceus rumbled, his golden eyes flashing once more before he summoned a final seal onto the floor, this seal revealing a strange horse-like creature with a small horn and red hair that ran over the back of its head. A small clump of blue fur was wrapped around its neck like a scarf and its tail was like the colour of crystal-clear water.

Seeing Arceus and the Creation Trio's two members there, the creature bowed before he spoke with a young voice, '_Arceus, Dialga, Palkia; what may I do for you?_'

'_We have a task for you, Keldeo,_' Arceus explained, smirking to himself as he saw Keldeo then notice Mewtwo, who smiled himself before he inclined his head to the newest member of the Swords of Justice, '_You are to align yourself with a human child and keep him on the path of innocence and light…as his partner and friend: will you do that?_'

'_A child?_' asked Keldeo, '_What sort of child?_'

'_A young child that desires a new start, young Keldeo,_' Mewtwo answered, '_He is someone with little strength to him, but we, that is Arceus and I, believe that can change…with your help._'

'_And for this change,_' Arceus then added, '_He will need a guardian of his own: an adult or a sibling of our world…_'

'_I think I know just the Trainer,_' Mewtwo grinned, earning a warning growl from Arceus.

'_No, Mewtwo: not _him_,_' Arceus warned him, his voice edged by the power he held as he explained, '_His role in our future is not to be shared with this boy; while the child could meet him one day, he will need a different guardian…someone with the skill, power and ability to care for a child._'

'_And I'll be with him?_' asked Keldeo, earning a nod from Arceus as the youngest of the Swords asked, '_How? I'm not exactly a bound Pokémon, Lord Arceus._'

'_With this,_' Arceus explained, opening his jaws and, with a burst of orange energy, the Creator summoned a crystalline sphere that he sent to Keldeo, much to Mewtwo's surprise.

'_One of Entei's Poké-Balls? An interesting choice,_' he looked to Keldeo before he asked, '_Are you prepared for this, youngling? Take it from someone who's been there; humans are…unpredictable, but they can change anything and everything faster than Zapdos can fly._'

'_I…_' Keldeo began, before he raised his head and, in a flash of orange light, he changed into a slightly taller, more muscled form of himself; this form, which was his Resolute Form, held three streaks of colour in a more profound red mane as well as a thicker, slightly longer black horn that shone with true power, '_I'm prepared…Lord Arceus: by the honour of the Swords of Justice, I vow to watch this child and do what is necessary to turn him into a true Hero._'

'_Then…_' Arceus commanded, turning his attention back to Dialga and Palkia as he commanded, '_Open the rift…send them through…and Keldeo?_'

'_Yes, my Lord?_' asked Keldeo as he and Mewtwo were enveloped in the psychic Pokémon's blue sphere, which allowed them to levitate off the ground and into the rift of Time and Space forged by Dialga and Palkia.

'_Good luck…_'

**Phew, that was an interesting one to write; anyway, as always, I hope you like it and, as I said before, for any further information, go and check out my forums for further info and other challenges.**

**Next Preview coming soon…**


	6. A Very Different Harry

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous previews. Now, as a quick note to my previous statement, Black Trinity has now been posted and I welcome any and all supportive remarks or reviews about it; enjoy.**

**Now, this one, hmm (thinks for a moment) how best to describe this one? Well, it's another one where the Dursleys are…'shudder'…NICE to Harry, but where it goes from there, who knows? Anyway, enjoy…**

_**A Very Different Harry**_

When Vernon Dursley picked up his nephew, Harry Potter, from King's Cross Station, the Muggle man felt that something was…different about his nephew. Normally, Harry was frightened, even fidgety about being late or keeping the man waiting, but this time, he just moved to the car, popped the boot, slid his trunk and the cage inside and climbed in the back seat.

Now, Vernon had always said that he wouldn't treat the boy with niceties, but, as he looked into the rear-view mirror as they pulled away from King's Cross, Vernon felt his heart stop dead as to what he'd seen in the mirror. Harry, the boy, he was sitting back with his head tucked against his knees, which he'd pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs and his hands…Vernon had to do a double-take to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

The boy's hands…were trembling…and furiously so; he didn't seem to notice that they were shaking, but his head was still buried in his own lap, as though he was trying his hardest not to look at his Uncle.

With an almost pitying look in his eyes, Vernon pulled out of London and made for Little Whinging, but he couldn't help risk a glance to the figure in the back of his car and his still, unyielding, trembling form.

_**A Very Different Harry**_

When they pulled into Number Four's driveway, Vernon got out of the car and had barely moved around to the boy's side of the vehicle before he was surprised by the sight of the boy already standing there, trunk and owl cage in hand. His hands were curled into fists, which made it hard for Vernon to tell if they were trembling or not; nevertheless, the man took a deep breath before he explained, "You're to go to your room: nothing needs doing, so just go to bed."

"Yes, Uncle," Harry replied, speaking for the first time since Vernon had picked him up; then, to the man's surprise, Harry placed his things in the cupboard under the stairs and climbed up the stairway to his room where Vernon heard a soft closing of the door and then…silence.

Ensuring that the car was locked, Vernon went into the kitchen and prepared himself a steaming mug of coffee before he moved into the living room where Petunia was leafing through one of her gossipy magazines. Taking a long drink from the mug, Vernon looked over his shoulder to where the boy had vanished before he turned back and asked, "Pet, can we have a talk?"

"What about?" asked Petunia, looking over the top of her magazine at her husband; she also noticed the absence of her nephew, "Where's _he_ gone, Vernon?"

"I sent him to his room," Vernon answered calmly, looking again to the stairs as he asked, "Pet, you remember…_her_? You know, his Mother?"

"Yes," Petunia replied, pursing her lips as she always did whenever Vernon mentioned her sister.

"Did she…did she ever come home…frightened?" asked Vernon and it was then that Petunia caught him glancing to the stairs once again, "Unable to speak? Incommunicative at all?"

"Not that I cared…but no," Petunia replied, her voice laced with venom as she asked, "Why? What has the little monster been doing now? He knows he's not allowed to do…_it_ outside that freak place."

"Come with me," Vernon told her, leading his wife up the stairs and down along the hallway to the door to Harry's room; stopping outside, Vernon heard only silence from within and, looking to his wife, he told her, "Peek inside: you'll see why I'm asking these things. Go on, Pet: take a look."

"Vernon…" Petunia whispered, but she complied with his request: opening the door slowly, Petunia glanced inside and, for the first time in her life with the boy, her heart melted.

Harry was curled up in the furthest corner of his room, his back to them, completely nude except for his underwear, but that wasn't what made Petunia so shocked: no, it was the sound of actual tears and the shakes of fear and horror that plagued his body as he lay there. His hands were by his side, but the shakes were clear as day to Aunt Petunia's beady eyes. His legs trembled and his breathing was rather quick: like he was hyperventilating.

Closing the door, Petunia turned before she gasped, "Did…_they_ do this to him?"

"I don't know," Vernon answered, his voice calm as he explained, "He was…he was silent…in the car; every time I looked at him, he…he'd tuck his head away and…and he'd say nothing. It's like…it's like he doesn't want people to know he's all there, Pet: something…something's changed. He didn't even argue when I went to drop his things off; they're…they're under the stairs. All of them: that stick, his broom, his trunk and even that flaming bird of his; all under there."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Petunia, her voice betraying her feeling as she felt close to tears, "He won't tell us anything…and _their lot_ won't do anything."

"Well…" Vernon explained, "I know…it's the last thing you'd expect me to say, Pet…but, perhaps…just this once…we _should_ take an interest in him. Let him…let him have a _normal_ summer; see about…about getting him and Dudley together."

"I suppose anything's better than letting him brood about _their _lot," Petunia argued, earning a nod from Vernon as he looked to the door.

"Then it's settled," he remarked, "From tomorrow, we start…helping make our nephew the young man he is…for his own good."

Petunia didn't know why, but as she agreed with Vernon's plan, she thought that she felt a warm beam of light press against her spine;

Like someone behind her was smiling and approving with the Dursleys' change of heart…

**Well, there it is: it's only a preview, but I think it says more than anything else; now, when I originally came up with this idea, it was because of a challenge in my forums (Tomato in the Mirror Challenge) but the idea's also pretty good; who knows if this will become a proper story, but I can only say that it's here on paper for now;**

**Next Preview coming soon…**


	7. Voices

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous previews. I have to admit myself impressed; six previews and the Den seems to be gaining popularity; now, for the next one, I decided to take things back to early-years Hogwarts and bring about a new idea altogether: or one for me, anyway.**

**So, enjoy…**

_**Voices**_

It started, rather strangely, with a headache;

A headache that, no matter what he did to try and soothe the pain, Harry found that he just couldn't help but wince, groan and even lose his focus in lessons. He didn't know where it was coming from, but the pain had bothered him and kept him awake at night ever since the encounter with Quirrell and Voldemort down in the forbidden corridor.

Ron and Hermione, much to Harry's surprise, weren't much help either: Hermione just told him over and over again to see Madam Pomfrey about it and Ron just made remarks about Harry suffering from headaches all throughout the year, so it was no surprise to him.

The noise and hustle and bustle of Hogwarts didn't help much either: even the combined conversations of the Great Hall seemed to drive Harry insane as the pain sought to increase its torment on him. None of the coping methods that were so _helpfully_ suggested seemed to help either: Harry went for walks to get some fresh air; he put a cold compress on his forehead; he tried getting somewhere quiet and having a sleep and he even went as far as to have a proper feed at dinner as Hermione explained that lack of food and nutrients could have been the reason.

Nothing worked…

One week after the pains started, Harry decided that he'd had enough: he needed to be somewhere that was quiet, solitary and out of the way of _helpful_ suggestions and idiotic questions about whether or not he was okay. Most of all, Harry just wanted to be away from the noise and so, following his explorations of Hogwarts in the past, the young Gryffindor made for the Astronomy Tower's viewing platform, the soft lull of the breeze wafting over his face did little to calm Harry, but at least it was quiet here.

Sitting against the wall, Harry looked out over the scenery of Hogwarts outside and let himself drift off into a sense of calmness and sanctuary that he'd never really known before.

Finally, now that he was alone and there wasn't anyone around to question him, finally Harry could ask the question that no-one seemed too eager to answer, "What could have caused this headache? Nothing _really_ special happened that night…did it?"

The last thing that Harry expected to happen was _exactly_ what happened next…

'_Hello Harry…_'

With a start, Harry looked around, his eyes wide with shock as he tried to find the source of the voice, but all he saw was the overcast sky outside and the scenery from the viewing platform.

Tentatively, Harry asked, "Who…who's there?"

'_Don't you know?_' asked the voice, almost mocking him with its words, '_I've been trying _so_ very hard to get in touch with you…Harry Potter._'

Harry's blood suddenly ran cold: the drawl in the voice's tone sounded _very_ familiar to him, but…it was impossible.

He was gone, wasn't he?

"It…it can't be," he whispered, before groaning as a familiar pain now shot through his scar, the voice returning with a snigger.

'_It is…hello again, Harry Potter._'

"Voldemort…" Harry whispered, earning another cold chuckle from the voice as he asked, "But…where…how…where are you?"

'_In the one place you cannot escape from me,_' sneered the Dark Lord's tone, the words being followed by yet another burst of pain as he laughed, '_Inside you, Harry…I am inside your mind…and there's nothing you can do to force me out._'

**Another short snippet of a potential idea, but an interesting one, right?**

**By the way, I'm going to say it now: I've had a few reviews stating that some of my previews aren't for certain readers; that's fine, but you don't HAVE to say so: for example, if you don't like my Pkmn XOver ideas, then there's no need to say so; if you don't like that I wrote a Creature-Harry sample, then don't say so; if you don't like what I write, then that's fine: just PLEASE keep it to yourself, okay?**

**All right then…next Preview coming soon…**


	8. The Rebirth of Nexus

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous previews. I have to admit myself impressed; six previews and the Den seems to be gaining popularity;**

**Now, this is a real treat: two samples in one day, but this one, I am pleased to announce, is unlike the others as it's a full intro to a hopeful story; once again, it's a challenge response (my 'Death is Only The Beginning' Challenge) and is inspired by a certain game series, so, enjoy:**

_**The Rebirth of Nexus**_

Darkness…

That was all he could see, feel and recall around him;

It was dark…it was cold…and, admittedly, he was scared;

How had he come to be in the darkness?

Where was this dark world?

What happened to him?

All questions that burned in his mind as he tried to recall the facts of him being…wherever he was right now; however, before he could gather his senses and make heads-or-tails of the current situation, the sound of voices nearby drew his attention away from his dilemma.

"It is successful?"

"The Master, he is reborn?"

"Silence: we must wait for him to wake…then we are the Master's to command."

'Master?' he thought, trying to move his body, but all he felt was a strange hardened surface underneath him as well as what felt like cold metal over his body and his hands. As he tried flexing his fingers, a jolt of memory ran through his body, a few choice snippets of information being made available to him as he sat upon the surface…not laid, but seated.

His name: he could remember his name: it was Harry Potter.

He remembered that he was a wizard and that…no;

Beyond that, Harry couldn't recall anything else; why couldn't he remember anything beyond that?

How had his memory become so muddled and broken that he was now…wherever he was?

"Master moves…Master _lives!_"

"Hush childe; do not disturb his awakening: the Master will need time to adjust."

The voices; they were differently-toned and strangely-garbled, like they were speaking with hisses and croaks rather than human tongue; once more, Harry wondered to himself why they called him Master. He was no-one's master, was he?

Flexing his fingers once again, Harry felt the cold metal that covered him shift accordingly before he found himself able to clench his fingers into a fist, his body crying out at him as though he had been sat in the same position for a very long time. Following the ability to move, Harry took a deep breath and felt a gasp catch itself in his throat as his gasp sounded like the death rattle of a demon: he was suddenly reminded of a Muggle film villain that he'd once seen as a younger child.

After moving and breathing, Harry went for what should have, by all rights, been first on his list: talking.

"Where…where…am…I?"

His voice had become cold and hard, its words and voice distorted by the item that covered his body, including his face; instead of an answer, Harry was received by a loud series of cheers that seemed to echo all around him. With a low growl, Harry repeated, "Where…am I? Who…who's there?"

"Master!" exclaimed one of the voices from before; this one sounded youthful with a hint of experience and knowledge to it that suggested wisdom, "You are safe: you are here…do not be afraid."

"I cannot see!" growled Harry, but the words were no sooner out of his mouth before light suddenly flooded the place he was sat in and, in front of him, Harry saw the _strangest _creatures ever.

They looked, he had to admit, a lot like House Elves: with their short, almost stocky, builds and their wide eyes and pale skin, these…creatures seemed to remind Harry of Dobby.

'Wait,' thought Harry, 'I remember Dobby…but what else? What's going on?'

The leader of these creatures, whom also seemed to be the tallest of them though he couldn't have been any taller than the height of Harry's foot to his thigh, approached and bowed before Harry. He was dressed in a strange black clothing that seemed to wrap around his body, save for a silver marking over his left breast-side that was shaped like a strange letter of some kind.

"Master," the creature remarked, its voice being the one that told Harry not to be afraid, "Welcome back to the lands of mortality and shadows: I am Alpha and I am here to help Master return to the world."

With his deep, rattling breaths, Harry had to admit that he sounded pretty scary, but he put aside his fascination for now as he looked to the creature, the mysterious Alpha, before he asked, "Where…is this place? What…what happened to me?"

"Master sits within the embracing folds of the Nexus Throne, Master," Alpha replied, his eyes – which Harry then noticed to be as pale as a freshly-polished pearl – watching the being in front of him as he explained, "The Nexus has chosen you, Master, to be our new Master, our new King: Master is reborn, stronger and more powerful than ever."

"But…" Harry argued, "How is it I can't remember anything? I remember my name and a few snips about my life, but…what happened to my memory?"

"Master's spirit has been entombed within the Nexus for eighteen months, Sire," Alpha explained, clearly being the only one of the creatures that could address Harry at this moment, "He has suffered heavily due to maximum emotional traumas and the decimations of Master's soul."

"Let's pretend that I understand a word of what you just said," Harry reasoned, lifting what he now saw to be an armoured finger as he asked, "Who…or what the hell are you?"

Alpha bowed low as he answered Harry, "As I said, Master: I am Alpha, eldest member of Master's personal servants, the Netherkind: with me are Zeta, Beta, Gamma and Sigma: we have watched the Nexus' Resurrection Casket for many months now, waiting for the day when our Master would rise again."

'Netherkind?' Harry wondered to himself, 'Nexus? None of this makes any sense…and what did he mean by my _emotional traumas_? If only I could remember…woah!'

The last remark came from Harry lifting his hand to massage at his brow, only to find a strange helmet covering his face and a suit of the craziest, most-terrifying-looking armour he'd ever seen covering his body. It was jet-black in colour and seemed to be made up of ridged and spiked parts that gave it a look of the devil himself. Certain parts of the armour, such as the chest-plate and the arms and shoulder plates, had red highlights that seemed to present the image of blood rushing through the armour as well as the being inside it. The spikes on the shoulder-plates seemed to rise up like two pairs of wings either side of Harry's body and, as he looked himself over, Harry had to admit it: he looked good!

"So…" he hissed, looking to Alpha with renewed curiosity, "Are you saying that you're here to obey me?"

"We are your humble servants, Master," Alpha replied, though he seemed eager to continue as he explained, "We obey all commands of the Master and seek only the reformation of the powers of the Nexus. Now that you are chosen, we of the Netherkind are here to obey you."

"Chosen?" asked Harry, narrowing his eyes as he asked, "How? When?"

"When your mortal body died, Master," Alpha replied, his voice speaking of the event as though he was commenting on some holy event, "When your soul was claimed and devoured by the Nexus, thus beginning your joyous rebirth."

"You _WHAT?_" Roared Harry, his voice thundering around the chamber as he asked, "Do you mean to tell me that I'm _dead?_"

"Yes, Master," Alpha replied, his response more like someone commenting on the weather…

**And there it is: a full explanation of the idea is available in my forum under the challenge associated with the story, but nevertheless, it's one I'd love to post:**

**Oh, and for the record, the armour is inspired by TES' Daedric Armour set;**

**Enjoy…next Preview coming soon…**


	9. An Old Comrade

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous previews. I have to admit myself impressed; six previews and the Den seems to be gaining popularity;**

**For my next preview, I'm going to put an idea that came to me from watching the popular crime series, **_**The Mentalist**_** and kind of does what a few of us probably wished had happened in HBP; see what you think…**

_**An Old Comrade**_

Harry was willing to bet that if he looked up the word _fickle_ in the dictionary, he'd find a nice little picture of the Daily Prophet's newspaper editor as well as the Minister alongside it.

Just a few months ago, they'd been calling him a liar, a glory hound and other such names under the sun; and now, all because Cornelius Fudge, the idiot that he was, had seen Voldemort in person in the Ministry Atrium, they were hailing him as their saviour again and calling him The Chosen One. That made him laugh: they had no idea of the pain he went through and the losses he'd suffered to be hailed as their saviour; they'd _briefly_ mentioned that Sirius' name had been exonerated, but it didn't change anything: Sirius had still died.

And, worse into worse, Harry had also been forced to play the public spectacle and stand there, listening to droning reporters asking him stupid questions and, when he'd tried to get a word in edge-wise, who had called himself Harry's voice?

Albus bloody Dumbledore; that's who!

Then, when they'd eventually gone back to Hogwarts, he'd made up some cock-and-bull story about blood wards and all but blamed Harry for Sirius' death before revealing the reason for the trouble in the first place: Severus 'I-Can't-Let-Go-Of-My-Hate-For-A-Dead-Man' Snape!

So, when Harry had gone back to Privet Drive, he'd waited for the dead of night, using both wit and skills that had come from years of ducking and diving Dudley and his cronies and he'd all but spirited himself away into the night. Since then, Harry had rented a room within a shady hotel room on the outskirts of London and managed to avoid detection with help from an unseen advocate.

Whoever it was, Harry was thankful for them.

"Harry Potter…"

Harry's blood suddenly ran cold as he heard a voice use his name: had someone found him?

Looking over the paper, Harry was both awed and a little relieved to see an attractive young girl with dark skin and darker hair looking at him; she was dressed in Muggle clothes and held a pad in her hand.

'Of course,' Harry thought, remembering then where he was: sitting on the Underground in a Whistle-Stop Café about to have a bite to eat, 'She's a waitress: stupidity there, Harry…Moody's instincts are getting to you.'

"Who's Harry Potter?" asked the girl, a warm, welcoming smile crossing her face as Harry lowered the paper.

"No-one," he lied, trying to avoid a blush creeping over his cheeks as he realised this girl was actually pretty nice-looking, "Bit of a tosser."

The girl gave a soft laugh, a pen in her hand, as she looked to Harry before she added, "Funny that paper of yours; a couple of nights ago, I could swear that I saw one of the pictures move." Harry just laughed and nodded in unspoken agreement with her disbelief as she added, "Thought I was going around the twist…anyway, hungry?"

"Just a sec," Harry laughed, reaching for the menu when, to his surprise, the girl leaned in close, her hair falling around her shoulders and giving her a rather devilish, but beautiful look.

"Between you and me," she whispered, "Food here's a bit naff; only somewhere you can eat if you don't really care. I know a place, though: I could show you…maybe you could tell me a bit more about that tosser, Harry Potter."

"Oh," Harry gasped, a part of him wondering what area of heaven he'd just walked into – he _was_ a teenage boy after all – as he answered her, "Okay…yeah, sure; thanks: I'm…James."

"Alicia," the girl answered, giving him a wink as she added, "How about I get you a hot chocolate…until I finish…_on the house?_"

She whispered the last part and Harry could only smile and thank her silently as he sat back in his chair and, reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a mint and lightly sucked it as he tried to freshen his breath.

Suddenly, a feeling of prickling ran up his spine and, as Harry looked out the window, he saw the lights flickering with some sort of electrical interference. A sense of foreboding crept up Harry's spine as he rose and, moving away from the window, he whispered, "Oh no you don't; you're not taking this chance from me…hey, Alicia?"

"Yeah?" asked the girl.

"Hate to be a bother," Harry answered, "But…you got a toilet in here?"

"Round the side," Alicia replied, earning a nod of thanks from Harry as he walked around to the in-store facilities; however, had Harry looked back, he would have seen Alicia watching him before she reached into her pocket and withdrew a long, thin wand that she flicked around the room, her eyes filled with determination and focus as she cast her magic.

_**An Old Comrade**_

"Wow! What a night!"

"Yeah," Alicia laughed as she walked with Harry arm-in-arm away from a local nightclub that they had attended, Harry's steps a _little_ shaky, but otherwise all right. "I don't much care for new bands or music, but them…they were okay."

"Could have picked a better name than Snakebite, though," Harry reasoned, turning off the main road and walking towards his hotel, either oblivious to the obvious fact that this girl he'd just met walked with him…or not caring.

"Got a problem with snakes?" asked Alicia as they left the distant noise of the club behind.

"Let's just say…we don't get on," Harry answered, opening the door to the hotel and, after saying a hello to the porter, he turned before he asked, "So…is this good-night then?"

With an almost playful smile that made Harry's heart leap while his blood ran cold with a thought of a certain Death Eater he knew and loathed, Alicia asked, "Do you _want_ it to be…James?"

Harry shook his head, a slightly-pleased smile crossing his face as Alicia followed his lead up to his room and into the sitting area where he flicked on the television just in time for a late-night movie. Making two cups of tea, Harry returned and handed one to Alicia before he asked, "So…do you have a last name?"

"Calico," Alicia explained, her voice soft as she drank her tea, Harry sitting next to her where he put his arm around her shoulders and let her rest on his shoulder, "How about you, James? Do you have a last name?"

"Evans," Harry answered, feeling a bit awkward with lying to this girl, but he'd much as sooner be someone else right now…ergo, he had become James Evans. "A common name…"

"But you're not a common guy," Alicia laughed, placing her cup down as they watched the movie: it was a slash horror of some sort and, every time something scary happened, Alicia's head disappeared into Harry's chest.

When it was over, he stroked her hair gently before he told her, "It's okay…you don't have to be afraid; they can't hurt you…I won't let them."

Alicia looked into Harry's eyes as he said the last part; he must have noticed it too because he suddenly flew from her side, rising quickly and clearing his throat as he muttered, "I'm sorry…I shouldn't say that…"

"I'm not embarrassed," Alicia explained, lifting herself from the chair before she put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder as she told him, "I trust you, James; you're definitely _not_ a common guy, I could tell that when I saw you. So don't be so afraid to…be what you are: I saw how you looked at me and it's okay: I don't bite."

"It's not that," Harry sighed, lowering his head and holding his near-empty cup in his hands, "It's…it's complicated: everyone that…that's gotten close to me…before now; they…they get hurt and…it's my fault. I don't…I don't want to hurt anyone else, but…things change."

"Yes they do," Alicia agreed, her voice soft as she turned him around and took the cup from his hands, setting it down on the table as she added, "You've been snared, James: this time, it's you getting close to someone else…to me. And I'm not afraid of being hurt; I'll keep you close, safe…free."

She practically whispered the last part as her lips brushed against Harry's, the young wizard's eyes closing and his body almost relaxing as Alicia held him in her arms, her lips dancing with his while her hands removed his clothes.

_**An Old Comrade**_

A warm smell of fresh cooking roused Harry from sleep the next morning, his eyes straining against the light that burned; slipping his glasses from the bedside table, he actually smiled when he saw Alicia, dressed in her trousers, but leaving her top bare to him, bringing breakfast into the room.

"Morning," he whispered, watching as she sat down with him, setting a plate of fresh breakfast in front of him.

"Good morning, sleepy lover," Alicia smiled, placing a gentle kiss against his lips as she asked, "Did you sleep well?"

"Ugh…" groaned Harry, pulling himself up as he tucked into his breakfast, "Best night's sleep I've had in months…mmm…this is really good."

"I'm glad," Alicia whispered, watching him eat before she asked, "Are you…feeling anything else…about last night?"

"Well let's put it this way," Harry sighed, lifting his head and placing a return kiss on Alicia's lips, which she closed her eyes in acceptance of before Harry asked, "When can I see you again, Alicia?"

"Well…" she seemed to give a look of awkward emotions as she asked, "Who's asking me? James Evans…or Harry Potter?"

Harry felt his eyes widen as he looked at her, to which she smiled and nodded, "Yes, I know who you are: I've always known, but I didn't buy into what they said about you. I didn't mind the lie: it was obvious you wanted to be someone else lately…and I hope I was good enough for you."

"I should be angry," Harry sighed, shaking his head as he laughed, "But everything you've done for me is perfect: and…Harry's asking you, Alicia: when can I see you again? I'd like to."

"I know," Alicia replied, "But that's not my decision."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Harry laughed, "Are you saying you don't control your life?"

"Not at all," Alicia answered, "It's very restful."

"What?" asked Harry, "Are you some kind of…I don't want to use the word, but…are you a…prostitute?"

"Not as such," Alicia answered, looking to the door of Harry's room before she looked back as she added, "I have my own decisions, but not the outcome."

"I don't follow you."

Alicia sighed and, with the smile that had captured Harry's attention in the first place, she explained, "I do…I go…I do whatever the Dark Lord tells me to do."

Harry's fork fell back onto the plate with a loud crash.

"What?"

"Your freedom…lately," Alicia explained, her voice wavering as she saw his disappointment and his sadness, "Our night together, your blind spot status in the magical world: they were gifts from him."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing: he glanced to the desk next to his bed where he now saw _two_ wands – one his own and the other obviously hers – lying in wait.

Following his gaze, Alicia added, "You can hurt me…if you want; use my wand, you won't get traced."

"No," Harry whispered, looking down at his now-empty plate, though it didn't feel as empty as his heart as he asked, "I don't want to hurt you; you made me believe I couldn't…so I won't: but…what do you mean…a gift?"

"Me," Alicia explained, "I'm a gift…from him…to you: like…an olive branch."

"An olive branch?" he asked, "From Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"And…what did you do?" asked Harry, suddenly throwing the plate across the room where it smashed against the wall, "Huh?"

He rose from the bed, grabbing his boxers as he did so; as he dressed, he rounded on Alicia before he asked, "What was it? A love potion in the perfume? The drink you gave me? The band? What? How is it that you managed to deceive me into…"

"Into loving me?" asked Alicia, stepping back while she kept herself unarmed, "Nothing: absolutely nothing, Harry: he's seen inside your mind and fought with you _so many_ times that…he's come to see you as…an old comrade rather than an enemy. He doesn't want you to suffer anymore: what happened at the Ministry…with your godfather…and your friends: it shouldn't have happened."

"A comrade?" asked Harry, "After what he did to me? He could have destroyed my mind, turned me inside out and…you say he's a comrade?"

"And he hopes you'll see him in the same way," Alicia retorted, her eyes filled with her own guilt as she explained, "I didn't put anything in any of the things we shared yesterday: when you went to the bathroom, there was a magical interference and I stopped it. I sent the source, which was none other than that war-mongering, life-destroying bastard, Albus Dumbledore, away from you because that was what I was told to do: watch you, protect you and, if you wanted me, I was to become yours. It wasn't a potion or spell that made you have sex with me last night: you did that yourself…and I don't regret it…or telling you this: like I said, if you'd like to hurt me, then hurt me…but I'm not your enemy…and neither is he, Harry: not anymore."

Harry felt like he'd been sent on a rollercoaster ride straight through Hell, but there was something about her truth and sincerity with him that, as much as he wanted to do otherwise, it made Harry _want_ Alicia.

To keep her close;

To be with her – and not because of any spell or potions as she'd just told him.

Merlin forbid, she'd just confessed to being a member of Voldemort's forces…and yet, Harry couldn't deny it;

He _loved_ her…

"So…what happens now?"

**Wow, there's a big idea for you; as I said, the idea came from the crime series **_**The Mentalist **_**– S4 episode: The Crimson Hat – and it just sounded…so out there and yet…so perfect that I had to explore it; I hope you liked it…**

**Enjoy…next Preview coming soon…**


	10. Dawn of the High Breed

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous previews. I have to admit myself impressed; a big thanks to everyone that enjoyed my last instalment:**

**Now, for this next one, you'll recognise it: it's the starter chapter to my now abandoned story **_**Dawn of the High Breed**_**; I'm merely putting it in here on the off-chance that inspiration should return and give me a way to write a new form of the story; anyway, enjoy;**

_**DAWN OF THE HIGH BREED**_

Dawn of the High Breed

Chapter 1: Blood Moon

Harry Potter did not fear death;

He had faced the sort of challenges that would leave others his age quivering in their boots, each one – or almost each one – bringing him to the edge of the realm between life and death so many times that, over the years, Harry had come to realise that he did not fear the end. In fact, if and when it came, he would look it in the eye, spit in its face and tell it to hurry up and end him if it was so eager.

But when the Triwizard Tournament, an event designed for witches and wizards that were of age chose him as a Fourth Champion, Harry felt like he was actually thrown into the pits of hell itself and made to fight like the Gladiators of old for the enjoyment of Death and his ilk. He'd barely managed to survive a fully-grown Hungarian Horntail dragon, conquered a lake filled with who-knows-what and emerged a little battered and bruised, but still very much alive and now, within the confines of a realm he recognised _all too easily,_ Harry felt that sensation again: the feeling of Death himself drawing nearer.

Slowly getting to his feet, Harry looked around, taking in the sights of the graveyard that he had visited all too often in his dreams and nightmares, a feeling of icy cold trickling down his neck and spine while, nearby, Cedric Diggory, the _true_ Hogwarts Champion and his rival in the Tournament, fell beside the Triwizard Cup and laughed incredulously.

"It's a Portkey," he whispered, the disbelief clear in his voice as he seemed to ignore the imminent threat; Harry, on the other hand, had his wand in his hand as he looked around, hoping beyond hope that his fears were wrong. "Harry; the Cup was a Portkey."

"I've been here before," Harry whispered, his voice low as he looked around, a strange feeling of foreboding filling his heart as he turned and, seeing the headstone closest to him, he ordered, "Cedric: we have to get back to the Cup _now!_"

"What are you talking about?" asked Diggory, his words filled with a sense of angst as Harry turned suddenly, hearing a sound like a door opening nearby. Glancing towards the door, Harry felt a mix of fear and anger well up inside him as he saw the familiar rounded form of Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, emerging from within a small shack, a bundle in his arms.

As Wormtail emerged from the shack, Harry gasped in pain as a familiar burning sensation seemed to burst out of his lightning-bolt scar, forcing him to his knees. He'd never felt such intense pain like this before: it actually felt like his skull was being ripped open. At the same time, a large fire suddenly lit up underneath what Harry and Cedric now saw to be a cauldron, a strange liquid simmering inside.

"What is it?" asked Cedric, running to Harry's side, "What's wrong?"

"Get back to the Cup," Harry barked, a part of him wondering why it was nobody listened to him.

Cedric, it seemed, was no exception: he stepped away from Harry and, instead of raising his wand to form a shield or even attempt to disarm Wormtail, he just pointed it at the man, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Kill the spare."

The voice, the same voice that had haunted Harry's nightmares from the day he was born, was like the voice of a demon from the deepest pit of hell and, as Harry struggled to stay conscious through his pain, he saw it: the same green flash leaving Wormtail's wand with the words he'd learned in the past year being shown to him once more.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

"NO!" Cried Harry, watching as Cedric was sent flying through the air, coming to a crash landing behind the angelic gravestone where Harry was kneeled.

As Wormtail approached and Harry felt an iron weight of guilt and sadness and darkness well up inside him, neither he nor Wormtail nor the _thing_ in Wormtail's arms noticed the skies suddenly darken, the moon overhead suddenly becoming full in image, though the usual silvery light was gone.

In its place…was a deep-set red aura, like the colour of blood, which washed out the silver like a pastel drawing in the rain.

However, Harry didn't even see the redness as Wormtail had pinned him on the end of a non-verbal levitation charm and had thrown him into the angel's embrace, the stone arms of the headstone wrapping around Harry and trapping him within the grip of the inanimate fiend. Pinned to the statue, Harry felt a sense of irony well up inside him as he considered the image: a creature/figure that resembled the Grim Reaper had him pinned close and wasn't letting go, the scythe of the Reaper pressed into his throat.

"Do it…" croaked the thing in the bundle, "…Now!"

'No,' thought Harry, struggling to try and get even a foothold over the entombed presence that he felt being trapped by the stone arms. 'This can't happen: not now…not after everything I've done…'

Again, Harry struggled against the embrace, watching with fear and disbelief as Wormtail dropped the thing into the cauldron and, turning his wand on the spot beneath Harry's feet, he began to speak, "Bone…of the Father…unwillingly…given!"

The bone beneath Harry's feet was hovered over towards the cauldron and dropped in, causing a loud fizzing sound to emit from the cauldron while Harry still struggled, 'This…won't happen…it can't…if only…if only I had…more…'

Once again, as Harry made his silent wish, he was unaware of the glow of the red moon now brightening, its shine beaming down onto the spot where Harry was held. Through his pain and disbelief, however, Harry didn't see it: instead, he just felt that same fearlessness, now mixed with a sense of defeat, rise inside him.

'Riddle's coming back,' he thought, watching as Wormtail held a dagger up to his finger-less hand and sliced it off, muttering about the 'Flesh of the Servant' as he did so, 'And…and there's nothing I can do…I've…I've failed them…'

With an almost demented look in his eyes, Wormtail turned his attention to Harry, his voice hissing through his own pain as he exclaimed, "And…the blood…of the enemy…forcibly…_taken!_"

'Like _hell_ he is,' thought Harry, thinking about the Killing Curse, about Cedric's death – and thinking about what a fool he'd been for not being better prepared: he was a _seventh_ year for god's sake – and about how things would be different. No doubt, even if he survived this, the world would still see him as something foul and inhuman: they'd even deny that the events of this night happened and call Harry a liar and a glory-hound.

Wormtail approached Harry, the tip of his dagger now slicing into Harry's flesh; however, at the same time, a fire seemed to rise in Harry that was coupled with the strange and eerie glow of the red moon. Inside his mind, something…dark seemed to become one with Harry and fuse itself not only to his mind and body, but to his magic, filling him with strength as Wormtail's dagger touched his skin.

"Put…the dagger…down!" growled Harry, the fire inside him now rising higher and higher as he looked to Wormtail, his green eyes shining with pure hatred and malice. As though he was mesmerised by the look, Wormtail staggered back, the dagger dropping to the ground while, at the same time, the stone arms of the angel moved away from Harry, allowing him to settle down on the floor.

"What…what is this magic?" asked Wormtail, the hissing and spitting from the cauldron now becoming unstable.

"Fool," hissed Voldemort, his voice weakened, but very much there and alive, "Finish it: his blood…give me his blood."

"I don't think so," Harry snarled, the fire inside him now flowing out through his magic and, as it met Wormtail, the traitor screamed in fear as he was sent flying into the arms of the reaper headstone, the arms closing around _him_ while Harry, looking up towards the red moon, heaved a deep and almost hungry sigh of relief. Releasing the sigh, Harry approached the cauldron and, lifting his foot, he _kicked_ the cauldron and its contents all over the place, sending the weakened form of Lord Voldemort tumbling to the ground. As the potion that the Dark Lord had soaked in vanished into the ground, Harry shook his head as he asked, "You didn't actually believe I'd _let_ you come back, did you, Tom?"

"Potter…" hissed Voldemort, his word laced with hatred for the boy before him, "What…how did you escape?"

"Well," Harry answered, scratching at the back of his head, "To be honest, Riddle, I'm not sure: but the important part is that I have and, once again, I win and you lose. Now, since you're here, I think I'll put you out of _my_ misery once and for all."

"W-Wait!" Gasped Voldemort, his corpse-like body looking as frail and weak as a lifeless skeleton as he crawled towards the cauldron and towards Harry, "Think…think about this, Potter: you've discovered power, _true_ power…and you-you can't understand it: help me…and…and I'll help you: I know a lot a-a-about Dark Magic. You can have it all: I swear it…but please…just let me live."

"I guess that explains your name," Harry mused, stepping back as he approached the cauldron, up-righting it before Voldemort had a chance to crawl back inside, "The Flight of Death…or Flight from Death depending on your translation: it's what you fear, Tom: death. But _I _don't fear it, not when you and your cronies have made me experience it _so_ many times."

"But…" Gasped Voldemort, his weakened eyes wide as he looked up at Harry, "Y-You're…you're not a villain, Harry Potter; you won't let…let me just…just…die."

"Why not?" asked Harry icily, turning his back on the corpse, "It's as easy as waving a wand and saying Avada Kedavra, isn't it, Dark Lord?"

"What do you want, then?" asked Voldemort, his voice straining as the interrupted ritual began to take its toll on his body, "I…I can give you…anything; anything you ask…just…_please_, Potter, I _beg_ you."

"You _beg_ me?" asked Harry, turning to glare at the corpse while he bent down and retrieved Riddle's wand from where Wormtail had dropped it, "You mean like my Mother _begged_ you, Riddle? _Not Harry_, she said; _please, not Harry_; she offered her life in exchange for mine and you _still_ ignored her! You're not worthy of my satisfaction, but, since I hold the power now, I think I'll enjoy it."

"W-W-What do you mean?" asked Voldemort, his eyes wide as he saw his own wand pointed at him, "You…wouldn't…"

"I would…now how did that spell go?" asked Harry, the anger and vengeance in him flowing freely as he smiled coldly and added, "Oh, now I remember: _Crucio!_"

The sight of Lord Voldemort, even as a half-dead corpse, writhing and screaming under the pain of the Cruciatus Curse was one that would stick with Harry throughout his lifetime. As the rush accompanied with the Dark Arts moved from Voldemort's wand into Harry's body, the young wizard let out a snicker before he laughed and, almost dementedly licked at his lips.

"That felt pretty good," Harry laughed, the glow around him from the blood moon brightening as the power of darkness was fed into his system, "And people said I would never make it as a Slytherin; ha, I can throw off the Imperious, survive _you_ on a near day-to-day basis, conjure a Patronus at my age _and_ speak Parseltongue. I _should_ have let the hat put me there after all…ah well, live and learn as they say."

"P-P-Please," Tom gasped, his corpse shaking with the power of the curse, "P-P-Potter…please…don't do it: I can help you. I can be of use to you: can't you feel it? The Darkness? The pull of the ever…everlasting Night? I…I think…I _know_ what's happening to you: please…spare me…help me…and I will give you…_everything._"

Looking to the skies, it was then that Harry noticed the moon shining overhead, its radiant glow settling around him like the rays of the sun would do for a sunbather: that's what it felt like; as though he was bathing in the bloody glow of the red moon.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry asked, "What is that?"

"That…if I am…I am right…is what…is what is happening to you," Tom gasped, wincing as part of his body seemed to start to melt away, "Potter: _please_ help me: I can tell you about this…give you everything: my army, my magic…my _life_; please, help me…and _you_ shall become the Dark Lord. Please!"

The red moon seemed to reflect in the eyes of the young wizard as he glared down at Tom, his eyes filled with a murderous hunger as he laughed, "A Dark Lord? You think that _I _of all people would want to become what you are, Riddle? No, you fear death? Well, it's time to face your fears: let's see how this _other_ one feels."

"Harry…_NO!_"

_**DawnoftheHighBreed**_

A silence had gripped Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as they awaited the return of the two last champions from within the maze, some of them waiting with baited breath while others wondered why one champion hadn't emerged yet and left the other to rot where he belonged. Among the crowds, a few select people felt a sudden cold pass over them and, above their heads, the blood red moon shone down onto the stadium, illuminating the field and the faces of the spectators.

"Weird night," whispered Seamus Finnegan, his eyes on the maze entrance as he asked, "What do you suppose is keeping them?"

"I don't know," answered Hermione Granger, her hands clenched so tightly together that her knuckles had turned bone-white, "But I don't like it: Cedric has three years on Harry and he should have emerged. Even so, we haven't seen red sparks from Harry or Cedric, so…"

"Look!" exclaimed Lavender Brown suddenly, pointing at the maze, "What…what's that?"

_That_, as she had put it, was a deep red glow that filled the centre of the spot where the champions had gathered before the task and then, seconds later, there was a loud crack and Harry Potter emerged, the Cup looped through his fingers while Cedric Diggory seemed to be unconscious in his arms.

"They did it!" Cried Hermione, cheering with the others as celebratory music rose up around the arena, but, despite the excitement and the joy, Harry didn't share in it. Instead, he walked towards the spot where Amos Diggory emerged from the crowds and set Cedric down; from where she was watching, Hermione thought she saw Harry's lips moving, forming two words:

_I'm sorry_

Then, without another word, he left the arena and walked up towards Hogwarts School, leaving the celebrations and the suddenly horrified arena behind as the penny finally dropped.

However, before Hermione could run off to join her friend in his grief, she gasped suddenly as she noticed something else that had come back with Harry and Cedric: a hand-less, glassy-eyed figure that held the Dark Mark on his arm, his skin as pale as death and his body as still as a corpse.

Peter Pettigrew was lying in the centre of the arena, his condition showing others that he had somehow been killed…with the Avada Kedavra Curse.

_**DawnoftheHighBreed**_

Up in the sanctuary of Hogwarts, Harry walked through the corridors and past each of the portraits and the few students that had returned to the school, ignoring each of them as he moved up to the seventh floor, his eyes as cold as death and his walk like a man moving to the gallows. They couldn't understand what he'd done and they never would: but, hopefully, with this change in events, Sirius would be free and that would be enough, but, if Harry knew the idiocy of the Ministry as well as he did by now, he knew that such a chance was about as slim as Snape dressing up in a tutu and doing Swan Lake for the Queen.

Passing the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry continued upwards, moving into the seventh floor corridor and, passing the entrance to the Divination Tower, he made his way around until he found another stairwell, this one leading to the tallest point in Hogwarts: the Astronomy Tower.

Climbing the stairs, Harry moved slowly and with renewed purpose as he climbed, his eyes still cold and his body moving as though he'd actually fallen to the Imperious, his steps echoing all around him as he emerged onto the viewing platform, the blood red moon still shining high above. Reaching the edge of the platform, Harry looked up, meeting the glare of the red moon, before he took a deep sigh and, opening his mouth, he began to speak in a voice that was unlike him, the words echoing around the Tower:

_When Light and Darkness doth collide_

_An ancient gateway opens wide_

_From within shall Four be reborn_

_With a Fifth that shall lead them to a new dawn_

_Four for the creatures, the beasts and the night_

_The Fifth shall be born from a soul of light_

_The Silver, the Blood, the Heart and the Soul_

_With the hybrid shall they make lost clans whole_

_The choice of the world lies in their hands_

_For they shall gather all from foreign lands_

_A warrior, a saviour, a sorcerer from afar_

_An unknown hero and a secret scar_

_Through the blood and the soul shall they unite_

_And bring the end of the world or for their kin, shall they fight_

His words spoken, Harry took a single step forwards and, closing his eyes, he whispered, "It has begun…"

Then, without any sign as to how or why, he leaned forwards and plunged off the Astronomy Tower, his body plummeting to the ground…

**And there you go, as I said, I've posted this as a template design for any possible future ventures I take into the story;**

**Enjoy…next Preview coming soon…**


	11. Army of Two

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous instalments and encouraged my ideas to flourish. I have to admit myself impressed; a big thanks to everyone that enjoyed my last instalment:**

**Now, before I get started on the next one, I'd appreciate it if a reviewer could clear up a…little dilemma: apparently, FFN doesn't allow previews of stories to be posted on-site, so my dilemma is how can this be true and yet most authors post fics where they have a variety of ideas within? If anyone can answer that question, I'd be grateful;**

**Anyway, onto the next instalment of the Den and, for this one, I'd like to thank my good friend StormyFireDragon for the original idea; I've combined it – sort of – with my 'A Sirius Secret' Challenge and…well, see what you think:**

_**Army of Two**_

The night air was crisp and clear as Harry and Hermione stood with Sirius and a softly-chirping Buckbeak in one of Hogwarts' main courtyards, the former Azkaban inmate now looking to his godson with a soft smile as he explained, "I'll never forget about this: I'll be forever grateful…to both of you."

"Just doing what you would do for Dad," Harry replied, noticing Hermione stroking Buckbeak's soft feathers while he and Sirius were talking.

Following his godson's gaze, Sirius let out a sigh before he turned back and, kneeling down, he told Harry, "Listen, pup, before I leave you again, I think that there's…there's something you need to know."

"What?" asked Harry, looking to Sirius with eyes of interest.

"Before…before James switched Secret Keepers from me to Peter," Sirius explained, sitting with Harry on the wall of the courtyard, "Lily…she confided something in me: something that James had been affected by and…forgotten."

"What?" asked Harry.

"You," Sirius answered, his breath catching in his throat as he explained, "You've raised your life as the proverbial only child, but…you see, Harry, you're _not_ an only child."

"Huh?" asked Harry.

"You're not the only child of Lily and James," Sirius explained, "Before you…they had another child: nearly ten months before-hand actually…on September 22nd to be precise, the date of the autumnal equinox."

'Why does that date ring a bell?' Harry wondered to himself, a part of him also surprised at the revelation to the fact that he had a sibling.

"There's…there's something else," Sirius then added, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder as he explained, "When…when you were born, there was…an incident and…and memories and certain facts were…were changed."

"Like what?"

"Your date of birth," Sirius explained, tapping the side of his head as he explained, "Lily and James were led to believe that you'd been born on July 31st…for what reason, I don't really know. But, when they went into hiding and the Secret Keeper's post was threatened, Lily…she managed to somehow break through the mists of her mind and remember."

"So…" asked Harry, "When's my _actual_ date of birth?"

"June 21st," Sirius answered, "The date of the summer solstice…which is also _almost_ nine months on _exactly_ from your…your elder sibling."

"Do…where…who is my sibling?" asked Harry, looking to Sirius as he added, "If I've got a brother or a sister, then why hasn't anyone told me?"

"Your elder," Sirius explained, taking a deep breath as he continued, "Is…your elder _sister_ and you and she both don't really know or recall that you're siblings because, when she was just a few days old, she was stolen from you and your parents, both of whom had their memories altered so that they believed that you were an only child."

"But…Aunt Petunia," Harry argued, "Uncle Vernon…they've always said…"

"Chances are that they didn't know," Sirius reasoned, rubbing the back of his neck as he added, "But listen, Harry, because this next part is important: you _know_ your sister, though you don't recognise her as such. If you wish to find her again, then just look for the one that mirrors dear Lily in every way, probably, except her hair colour and her eyes. You look like your Father except for the eyes, but your sister looks like Lily except for the hair and eyes: she has James' eyes."

"And…" Harry gulped, seeing Hermione suddenly turn her attention to them as though encouraging the duo to hurry along, "What will I look for…in my…my sister?"

"A gift," Sirius answered, "Once you find her, she'll be with you, Harry: by your side, as your strength when you feel that you have none: apart, you both seem like nothing more than outcasts, but together, children of the equinox and the solstice, you're far stronger than you may believe. You are the strongest wizard of your age, Harry, but your sister…well, she's…"

"Sirius," Hermione cut in, running to his side as she looked apologetically to Harry before she added, "You have to go: we don't have much time to get back to the Hospital Wing."

"Okay," Sirius sighed, rising from the ground before he hugged Harry and, to Harry's surprise, also hugged Hermione before he turned and, climbing onto Buckbeak's back, he turned the Hippogriff around before he looked to the two Gryffindor students, standing side-by-side. With a smile, he told Hermione, "You really _are_ the brightest witch of your age."

He seemed to nod to Harry as he said this, before he pulled on Buckbeak's reins and took off into the sky, the sight of him flying off into the moon making Harry feel awed, saddened and a little confused.

'Why did Sirius make that parting remark?' he wondered, before Hermione dragged him in a run to the Hospital Wing. 'He said I was the strongest _wizard_ of my age…he was very specific to say wizard, so…if I _do_ have a sister, then…she'd be…what? What was Mum that my sister could also be?'

They reached the Hospital Wing with seconds to spare, just as Dumbledore appeared from giving them the hint about retracing their steps; seeing the two there, Dumbledore asked, "Well?"

"We did it, he's gone," Harry gasped, a part of him noticing that, for a split second, Dumbledore actually looked…almost troubled as he looked from Harry to Hermione.

"Did you? Interesting…good night."

With that, the Headmaster left the two to run into the Hospital Wing, just as their past selves vanished like ghosts in the night, a horrified look appearing on Ron's face as he pointed to them, "How are you there…when you were just there…and now you're there?"

"What's he talking about, Harry?" asked Hermione, a knowing smile on her face as he looked to her eyes.

Her sparkling, chocolate-brown eyes…so full of life…warmth…comfort…protections;

'Weird,' Harry thought as he shrugged in response to Hermione's question, 'Hermione's eyes…they remind me of…of…'

A shocking, almost _impossible_ thought came to Harry as he looked back to Ron and, masking his worry, he asked, "Honestly, Ron: how can anyone be in two places at once?"

While Harry and Hermione shared a laugh and Ron still looked frightened and in a fit of fearful hysterics given what he'd _thought_ he'd seen, Harry climbed back into bed, let Madam Pomfrey give him a look-over, before, just as he fell asleep, he finished his thought from before;

'Hermione's eyes…they look…_just like my Dad's…_'

With a glance to the bed holding his best friend, Harry gulped before he whispered to himself, "Could…could it be?"

As he lay down on his pillow, his eyes slowly closing as sleep caught up with him, a final revelation came to Harry as he realised why the date of the autumnal equinox was _so_ unique;

'September 22nd…is Hermione's birthday!'

**Well, there we go: a shocking revelation indeed and, once again, I give all credit for the idea to StormyFireDragon for this idea, which was inspired by his story **_**Light in the Dark**_**; IF I chose to continue, I'd point out that I changed things for the benefit of the story and that I was going with my gut instinct on how to write this story;**

**Anyway, enjoy…next chapter of the Den's seemingly-endless archives coming soon…**


	12. Blood Is My Life

DZ2's Den of Delights

**Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous instalments and encouraged my ideas to flourish. I have to admit myself impressed; a big thanks to everyone that enjoyed my last instalment:**

**Now, for my next instalment, it's a Halloween treat for my readers since I doubt I'll be able to update on the date itself: however, here is the treat and I only hope you enjoy it. It's an example response to a poll I set up over the summer for a Harry Potter/Young Dracula XOver, so…enjoy;**

_**Blood Is My Life**_

It was out there;

Calling to him on the breeze;

A voice…unlike any other;

It had been trying to call out to him ever since he had returned to Privet Drive for his now-sixth summer before returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year.

The only difference was that, this time, Harry James Potter didn't _want_ to return to Hogwarts;

Why should he?

The world had called him a liar, a cheat, a traitor, a murderer and everything else under the sun and now they were expecting him to forget all that and save them from Voldemort's Second Coming?

Screw that!

So, when the call had come just one week after Harry had returned to Privet Drive, he'd waited, relying on a side of himself that he'd regressed for so long: his Slytherin nature, to get him out of Privet Drive without the Order of the Overcooked Pheasant knowing about it. He had left the house in the dead of night and, with little more than a few pounds stolen from Dudley – it was about time that they started paying _him_ for keeping their worthless asses safe – and a change of clothes in a pack that Dudley had never used, Harry set off for the source of the call.

The journey was long and arduous, but Harry didn't give up: he rested by day and, when the sun went down and Harry was able to confirm that he wasn't going mad, the Call returned and Harry was able to move out, making his way to the north and west of the country. After almost a week of travelling, during which Harry had come close to having an encounter with wizards outside Birmingham, the young wizard found himself crossing the Severn Bridge in Wales, entering the adjoining country of the United Kingdom for the first time.

'What could be calling me from all this way?' Harry wondered, passing by the outskirts of Cardiff City before he made his way north, into dense woodlands and towards a town that, according to nearby English/Welsh translated signposts, was called Stokely.

Resting in the forest outside the town, Harry leaned against a tree and, wrapping his travelling cloak – the only other wizard's item he'd brought with him aside from his wand and his Father's Cloak – around him like a blanket, he nestled down for the night, his stomach rumbling quietly with hunger, the roadside burger he'd eaten that day seemingly eons ago now.

'Who are you?' he wondered to himself, looking in the direction of Stokely as he felt the pull against his insides once again: this was the force of the Call. It was almost like a strong tug against his magic, but, at the same time, it beckoned to Harry to heed the Call and, at times, Harry could swear that he felt incredible levels of power passing through the Call.

They _had_ to be incredible levels to reach him all the way across in Little Whinging.

'Why do you call me like this?' Harry wondered, looking down the road where a soft glow seemed to illuminate the horizon: he must have been closer to the town than he realised. 'You're not Voldemort…I know that much, but then…who are you? What are you? What do you want with me?'

A sudden chilly wind blew through the trees and, as Harry tightened his makeshift blanket around him, he closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep, his eyelids flickering as dreams came to him that, as always, he couldn't quite understand…

_Dream Start_

Harry was hovering over what looked like a dark and _very_ regal-looking throne room, a tall figure with dark hair restrained within what looked like a cage made from violet bars while, close by, a young boy of around fourteen or fifteen lay still and motionless on the ground. Above the boy and close to the man was a rather attractive-looking girl that strode across the room and glared at the boy with hatred.

"_Is he…is he dead?"_ asked the man, his voice thick with power while his eyes appeared to hold an air of fear.

The girl's lip curled in a sneer before she replied, "_I don't know…and I don't care_."

Harry felt a shiver pass down his spine as he heard her response: so cold and callous and yet so hurt; he didn't know why, but he suddenly found himself feeling sorry for the girl. He didn't know who she was, let alone who the others were, but something seemed to draw him close to this scene, these three…strange people.

As the girl approached a throne at the head of the room, the man gave a snarl before he barked, _"He's your brother: you _must_ help him!"_

The girl didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry to listen; instead, she took hold of what looked like a human skull and a sceptre before she turned to face the man, a vicious snarl now etched into her features as she retorted, _"I'll decide what I _must_ do!_"

Approaching the throne, the girl took the seat before she added with a cold grin, _"Because _I'm_ in charge now…_"

The man, looking both shocked and a little scared, gave a roar that seemed to make the walls tremble before he barked, _"TRAITOR!_ _You_ _will pay for this betrayal, Ingrid…"_

"_SILENCE!" _The girl, Ingrid, commanded, her voice holding more power than the man as she then explained, _"From now on, you will call me _Countess_ Dracula; watch me as I avenge Will's death and make the streets of Stokely run red with blood…_"

Her evil laugh echoed around the halls while the man looked frightened and the boy on the floor remained unconscious, though Harry, looking back to Ingrid, only had one thought as the dream pulled him away…

'No…way…'

_Dream End_

Waking with a start, Harry gasped, his heart racing at a speed that seemed impossible as he tried to piece together what he'd just seen: he'd had visions before, but this one…it was so vivid…so real: like he'd really been there.

'That girl,' Harry thought, remembering the frightening image of the girl, Ingrid, from his dream, 'She said to call her…Countess Dracula, but…if she's real…if what I saw is real…then that would make her…a vampire.'

With a sigh and a rub of his eyes, Harry realised he wasn't about to get any more sleep that night and so, rising from the ground, he tucked his makeshift blanket back into his pack and made for the town, a part of him almost amused he couldn't help but think one last thought about what he'd seen:

'Vampire or not…she was kind of cute…'

_**Blood Is My Life**_

Stokely seemed like any ordinary town…well, any ordinary town with an awe-inspiring, somewhat-intimidating castle overlooking the town centre. The local school seemed to be somewhat deserted, which didn't surprise Harry as he figured that the summer holidays had begun for Muggles, though what did surprise him was the air of…mystery that hung over the town. An eerie silence followed Harry as he walked past a row of semi-detached houses and up, following the Call, to the Castle.

'Okay…' he thought to himself, 'Unusual dream…magical Call…of _course_ you're heading for the Castle: don't be afraid, Harry. This is nothing new to you…'

Passing through a pair of rusted iron gates with two large gargoyles on either side of him, Harry took a deep breath before he reached the large wooden doors that led into the castle.

Reaching the front door, Harry lifted his hand and knocked once: no reply.

'This isn't _that_ suspicious,' Harry thought to himself, looking back out over Stokely where the early-morning atmosphere was showing itself in the form of a few people walking down the street away from the castle. A few birds flew overhead and, despite the crisp sensation of the morning, Harry noticed that a dark, sombre atmosphere hung over the castle's walls and structure.

Without needing to ask himself about it, Harry lifted a hand and pushed against the doors: they opened as though bidden, allowing him to step into the gloom of the rooms within. Though, if he was honest with himself, Harry wasn't all that impressed with the interior design as it seemed to have been abandoned and left to gather dust: if he'd been able to use his wand without worry for the Trace, he would actually have lit the room.

As the doors closed behind him, Harry gulped, gathering every ounce of his Gryffindor courage as he looked around, a part of him then noticing that the mysterious Call he had been feeling and sensing ever since Surrey was now…gone. He was able to move, breathe and, if he wanted, he could turn around, go back to England and Surrey and forget about the Call.

'Yeah,' he thought to himself with a snigger, 'Back to lies, distrusts and deceptions that leave me feeling like the black sheep of Hogwarts and the target of pure evil, death and destruction. Back to a world where there's nothing left for me: Sirius is dead, Remus would rather cower in fear and let the Order run his life and my friends…well, after their say-no-evil treatment last summer, I'd just as soon avoid them.'

Crazy as it was to admit it to himself, Harry knew: he was staying.

Suddenly, the cold chill from before returned and, as Harry looked around, he was aware of a dim flicker against the edge of his vision, a feeling of intense pain and fear passing through Harry before a familiar voice spoke from the shadows, "Who are you to willingly walk into my home like this, breather?"

"Ingrid?" asked Harry, remembering the name from his dream: as he asked the name, the flicker returned and, this time, it became the fully-fledged form of the attractive young woman he'd seen in his dream. She was dressed in black clothes that hugged her frame, her dark hair slightly matted and, if Harry was being honest, somewhat similar to a certain Death Eater that Harry had vowed to one day _kill_. Her eyes were a rich shade of hazel with a hint of redness to them as she glared at Harry and, as she met his eyes, Ingrid snarled at him, revealing two rows of vampire fangs that shone in the dim light of the castle's interior.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, a demonic roar to her voice as she demanded, "Answer me while you're still breathing: are you a Slayer? Looking for my wormy _wimpire_ of a brother? Well, you made the mistake of coming here…and unarmed at that!"

"I'm _not_ a Slayer," Harry insisted, holding his hands up in an attempt to show her that he was unarmed, "And, as for how I know your name, you wouldn't believe me if I told you…even if you _are_ Countess Dracula."

Ingrid seemed taken aback by his forwardness; as she met his eyes, her eyes shone with the mesmerising shade of gold that came with vampire hypnotism, before she whispered, "Tell me…how do you know me?"

"Hypnotising me?" asked Harry, shaking his head as he explained, "That won't work: I'm a wizard, Countess: a user of the mystic arts and one of those arts, known as the Imperious, is a curse I can throw off. I _won't_ be controlled: not by _anybody!_"

Ingrid suddenly gasped as the nearby fireplace suddenly flared into life, Harry's almost-glowing emerald-green eyes now shining in the light of the fire as he hissed, "Now, since you know I'm a wizard, I suppose I can tell you: I…well, I dreamt about you…and your brother…and some man: your Father?"

"Yes," Ingrid replied, her voice softer than before as she seemed to be in awe of Harry's power. Looking from his eyes to the roaring flames, Ingrid then asked, "What…what's your name…wizard breather?"

"Harry," replied the young wizard, "Harry Potter."

Now Ingrid _was_ surprised: there wasn't a creature of magic and mystery that didn't know that name: the Boy Who Could Defy Death; the destroyer of the breather's dark lord.

Here he was: standing in front of her, but the question that Ingrid needed to ask was, "What are you doing here, Harry Potter?"

"Would you believe that I was Called here?" asked Harry, earning a look of disbelief from Ingrid, which Harry shrugged to as he explained, "I don't really understand it, but…a week ago now, I started feeling this…drawing in sensation inside me that didn't let up. Since I had no real qualms about running away from the hellhole I lived in, I chose the lesser of two evils and followed it. The Call led me straight here and only really stopped when I stepped inside the Castle; I don't know what it was or why I was brought here, but, as far as I'm concerned, anywhere is better than where I was."

"You say that with such malice," Ingrid noticed, now approaching Harry with a more humane appearance to her as she asked, "Why do you sound so…vampirically-evil when you say that?"

"Like I said before," Harry replied, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you…but if the Call has brought me here…to this castle where the Vampire Countess of Dracula resides, then I may as well say it: no matter what, I'm _not_ going back!"

Ingrid actually felt sorrow in her cold, unbeating heart as she listened to the rage and fury within Harry; she hadn't felt this way for over two years: not since Will had been turned by her and she'd lost him in that last battle. Now this…this gifted child was here, with fire and darkness in his soul and clearly willing to stay, but he wasn't afraid: it was like he had nothing left to lose.

"Harry…"

"Yeah?" asked Harry, looking to Ingrid, noticing her eyes now on him.

"If you're here," she explained, "Then there has to be a reason: I know it's not because of my brother, the _Chosen One_, so…there must be another: however, since you seem to be so…willing to let go of your past, then…what would you say if I told you…I can help you with that?"

"How?" asked Harry.

With a smile that revealed her fangs, Ingrid replied, "Take a wild guess."

"Bite me?" asked Harry, turning to face her as he asked, "Make me a vampire? How is that supposed to help?"

"Maybe it'll silence the Call," Ingrid suggested, "Give you a new start on life…and besides, I don't recall the last time that a sorcerer was able to become a vampire: we have powers of our own, but…not like you."

"But I've read about your kind," Harry insisted, "Wouldn't your bite make me loyal to you? I told you, Ingrid, I don't bow to _anyone_."

"I know," Ingrid replied, a chuckle escaping her as she added, "That's what I'm counting on to make you…different: you won't answer to me, Harry; I won't allow it. You'll be unique: different, stronger and, above all else, you'll have someone here that…" An actual blush crossed her cheek as she whispered, "Who cares for you."

Harry _was_ a little surprised, but, as he looked to Ingrid, he felt the same sensation rise inside him that he'd felt in his dream state: he couldn't deny that she was cute, but, just like a former Triwizard Champion's kin couldn't allure him, Harry also knew that it wasn't her vampire allure doing this.

And besides, hadn't he just admitted to himself that he wasn't going back to a life where he was _expected_ to be a puppet on a string?

Here was Ingrid Dracula, yes, a vampire, but here she was offering him an out;

All he had to do, so to speak, was die.

"You're right, Ingrid," Harry confessed, now facing her while he lowered the collar of his shirt, "I won't be controlled…but I have nothing to go back to: so…go ahead, if you want to give me a new life by killing me…then do it! Drink me dry…and make me strong…_er_!"

With a nod, Ingrid approached Harry and, baring her fangs, she sank them into his throat, her eyes suddenly glowing with vampire-red bloodlust as she tasted raw power and fury within his blood. She'd _never_ tasted anything so rich, so…enticing: not even when she'd _finally_ managed to bite that breather freak, Robin, and his sister, Chloe.

It had been such a shame that the idiot had let Slayers catch him…he'd had such potential.

As for Chloe, she'd idiotically sunned herself rather than embrace the power of the night.

But, speaking of power, Ingrid could taste it, feel it and sense it all at the same time: Harry's blood was filled with raw energy and, as he fell against her, Ingrid let him go before she carved a wound into her wrist and offered it to him.

"Drink, Harry," she breathed, feeling a passion rise inside her that had never been there before, "Become anew."

Harry latched onto Ingrid's wrist and gulped _hungrily_, his body almost glowing as the power of the dark passed into him, his skin becoming pale while his body seemed to change, becoming slender and strong, his wild hair falling around his shoulders while his eyes shone with emerald-green fire that may as well have been the flames of death.

Pulling away from Ingrid's wrist, Harry took his _last_ breath before he gasped, coughing heavily for a few seconds as he rose and, looking to her, he whispered, "I've…I've never felt so much _power!_"

"And you can have even more…" a ghostly voice replied, both Harry and Ingrid then turning as the voice echoed through the halls of the once-proud Castle Dracula, "Come to the Blood Mirror…and find out…"

"The Blood Mirror?" asked Ingrid, watching as Harry vanished with vampiric speed; following his path, the Countess soon found her path blocked by the guardians of the Blood Mirror Chamber where she'd fought her reflection and Boris had become…something more.

'Why would the Blood Mirror call a ghoul of a vampire like Harry to the Chamber?' she wondered, watching and waiting for the result of this incredible twist of fate…

**And there we go: a very happy Halloween/Samhain or whatever else you call it to all my readers; I feel like I've been waiting forever to post this idea: now it's here and, as for bringing it onto FFN, that remains to be seen. The dream that Harry had is the final scene of Young Dracula's second series and, as you can probably guess, I'd be looking to make this a Harry/Ingrid pairing;**

**Anyway, enjoy…next chapter of the Den's seemingly-endless archives coming soon…**


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